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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25788205">I Promised to Tell You Everything</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilLayneeLoo/pseuds/LilLayneeLoo'>LilLayneeLoo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League (2017), Superman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Baby Kent-Wayne, Birth, Bottom Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Clark Kent is a Good Parent too damnit, Crappy Science Explanations, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Bruce Wayne, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, M/M, Mpreg, No Beta, OTP Feels, Pregnant Bruce Wayne, Pregnant Sex, Protective Clark Kent, Smut, Top Clark Kent, What Have I Done, graphic birth, i made this shit up, whatever</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:42:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>44,901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25788205</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilLayneeLoo/pseuds/LilLayneeLoo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Clark find themselves in a bit of a predicament, but it's nothing they can't figure out...afterall, even superheros can be parents, right?</p><p>(It's a work in progress everyone! But more mpreg cause I love it)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Diana (Wonder Woman)/Lois Lane, only implied - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>562</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Only 11 months of their relationship had passed, but there was Bruce, bent over the toilet for the third time that week and praying that his self-diagnosis was incorrect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had, ever since he first saw headlines detailing some of Superman’s heroic actions, admired the Kryptonian’s strength, bravery, and humility. He himself had saved lives on a few occasions, but regardless, he never really felt that he was worth the credit. He had vowed to himself he would never kill, but he wasn’t afraid to injure if necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Superman, however, would not. He was not born on Earth, but had found a home with Martha and Johnathon. Maybe he felt as though he owed mankind something, but Bruce thought that his actions were more so inspired by his own humanity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How foolish he had been not to trust him. How foolish he had been to believe that Clark was in love with Lois, a woman who (though not biologically) was essentially a part of his family. How foolish he had been to allow his jealousy to control his own actions. He had been such a jerk. He had been the one who crafted the Kryptonite weapons... he had, despite his heart rejecting the very thought of Clark as a threat, allowed his fear and prejudice to take over… he had, inadvertently, killed the man he loved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though, he hadn’t realized he loved him until he looked into his blank blue eyes and carried his body to Lois. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He left from the wreckage that day, unable to bear witness to Lois’ sadness, and the mourning the city endured. He hid himself away from the world, refusing to speak to anyone-- including Alfred-- until the day of Clark’s funeral.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even then, his heartache wouldn’t let him go near the casket. Watching Lois cry from afar, believing it was out of romantic love instead of familial, was enough for him. He would have preferred to stay completely silent, but Diana approached him. He felt that perhaps she sensed the way he was feeling, but disregarded this possibility, opting rather to discuss the future of their crime fighting careers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt the need to do something, something more than just wandering his empty home alone, eating silent dinners with Alfred and trying desperately to forget those eyes. He wanted to honour him, to carry on his legacy of selflessness and heroism. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He formed his makeshift Justice League. He had hoped so desperately that the others would comply, and was disheartened when he only managed to convince Barry. Sure, his meta-capabilities were useful, but he was young, awkward, and new to the whole concept of ‘risking-your-life-for-others.’ When Victor and Arthur finally made their way to the scene, he was eternally grateful. Bruce felt that together, they really could defeat Steppenwolf. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he learned of the mother boxes and their potential, he felt it was too good to be true. He knew that in bringing Clark back to life, he would be performing a very selfish act. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Superman had died, and that should have been it. It had been a tragedy for the whole world to bear, not just Bruce, and yet he felt that he had been affected more than anyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s death had changed who he was. He no longer felt that violence was appropriate just for the sake of violence. He was no longer an emotionless, rich playboy, bringing more women home than he could count, only to send them away the next morning, shallow and empty. He finally understood why he had felt that way at all, and he owed that to Clark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he saw him rise again, he couldn’t believe it had really worked. He joined the others around the monument, watching with fear and exhilaration as Clark tried to figure out not only where he was, but who he was. Bruce had wanted to say something, to try and comfort him at least, but Victor’s mechanism malfunctioned before he had the chance, and he found himself trying to defeat Superman once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had practically broken his heart when Alfred called in ‘the big guns.’ He had secretly wanted so badly to be the one to bring him back, but Lois managed to calm him down. She took him home to his mother, and she and Martha caught him up to the present day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steppenwolf was not easy to defeat, but once they had and the Justice League had officially formed, Bruce somehow felt a sense of wholeness. Clark remembered now, remembered how all signs around him were pointing to danger when Bruce had foolishly attacked him. Though Clark remembered the kryptonite weapon that ultimately led to his death, he had realized that Batman hadn’t truly wanted him to die in the end, and had accepted Bruce as a teammate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There had been no incidents remotely close to the velocity of their encounter with Steppenwolf or Doomsday in months. The team met regularly, discussing potential global threats that could be addressed and recapping the small issues they had fixed in their hometowns. Bruce and Clark were separated only by a small channel, and so quite often found themselves teaming up to conquer villains that neither could manage alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Bruce was being honest, there were several occasions on which he had called for Superman when he hadn’t truly needed his help, only as an excuse to see him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>About eight months into this routine, Bruce started to notice that Clark seemed to be doing the same thing for him too, but came to the conclusion that Clark was simply a social man, unlike Bruce, who preferred to work alongside someone capable. Bruce still managed to convince himself that there was something more between Superman and Lois as well; it was Alfred who informed him otherwise one night over take out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see the way you look at him, Master Bruce,” Alfred had started suddenly, after Bruce’s attention had been pulled away from their previous conversation and toward a news story that was playing on TV. Superman had rescued 68 passengers on a train set to derail, and he was humbly refusing to comment on the situation. After Superman had shot into the sky and the broadcast had shifted to another story, Bruce clued in that Alfred had spoken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry?” he said. “Did you say something, Alfred?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The butler chuckled under his breath, pushing his food away from him and gently laying down his fork.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said, Master Bruce, that I see the way you look at him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce choked, nearly spitting out his food. He felt the heat rising in his cheeks, and wished desperately that he was wearing the cowl at this particular moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, trying to maintain a calm tone. His stomach was twisting. He had been certain that nobody knew, and yet here sat his elderly butler, somehow cluing in to something it had taken him forever to realize.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Master Clark,” Alfred said, a small smile on his face. “I understand...he is a very handsome man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce swallowed the food he had been chewing, and he too set down his fork. He took a deep breath, rapidly considering potential strategies for denial, but looking at Alfred’s gentle face, he realized that there was no convincing his butler otherwise. Alfred, after all, had raised him since he was very young, and knew him better than anyone else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What gave me away?” Bruce asked, touching his mouth with his napkin and avoiding eye contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you locked yourself away when he died. The first few days I could have attributed it to guilt, but when months had passed and the only time you had left the house was to attend his funeral, I realized that it had to be something more than that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce swallowed thickly again. Alfred had seen right through him. He had counted on his butler thinking he felt guilty, he hadn’t counted on him seeing his breaking heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then you brought him back, and now that you are working as a team…” Alfred started.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t just the two of us, Alfred, there’s Diana, Barry, Victor, and-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not talking about the League, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, calmly. “I’m talking about you calling on him every other night to assist you in stopping petty crimes. Since when is the Bat unable to handle an armed robbery?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well he’s bulletproof..”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred scoffed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...and your suit is not?” he finished. “As I said, I understand why. He is not human, but at the same time, he is more human than any one of us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce glared at him. Alfred was right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I must say that you cannot neglect to tell him much longer. If you two are to become a couple, it will have a significant effect on the function of the Justice League.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred, there will be no relationship between Clark and I,” Bruce murmured. “Just because I have feelings for him, doesn’t mean those feelings are returned. Besides, I know for a fact that he loves Lois.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was taken aback when Alfred audibly chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think Clark is in a relationship with Lois Lane?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes...she was ‘the big guns, as we discussed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred chuckled again. Bruce was becoming irritated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She was ‘the big guns’ because she had known Clark for a very long time, and we needed immediate assistance. Had Martha been closer to Metropolis, we would have called her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So he’s known her a long time,” Bruce said, still irritated. “That doesn’t stop him from being in love with her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, maybe not,” Alfred said. “But the fact that she’s a lesbian might.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was thankful at that point that he had finished his meal. He was certain that had he had any food in his mouth, it would have been all over the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce did not know how to process this information. While this news actually changed very little about his current relationship with Clark, Bruce felt like it had changed everything. His heart was racing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So Clark isn’t in love with her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, most definitely not. I spoke with Lois the night of his death. I was, obviously, tasked with retrieving your equipment from the site after you had disappeared. She informed me that she had felt  he was her best friend and that she would miss him dearly, but nothing more was going on. I feel that Lois’ side of the story is confirmation enough that no, Clark does not love Lois like that, especially given her attitude towards Miss Prince.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The conversation had carried on for a little while longer, Bruce interrogating Alfred for every detail of what Lois had told him, until he received an alert on his watch from none other than Superman. Alfred, as usual, helped him ready the Batmobile and took his position at the communications table, ready to direct Bruce to the site of the Metropolis’ most recent disaster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he had time to find Clark, Bruce was pulled aside by a middle aged man in a soot-stained suit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“350 offices,” he said, roughly, the remnants of smoke inhalation inhibiting his speech. “There are 350 offices in the building. The first floor cleared before it spread, but there are probably at least two hundred more workers inside.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man was cut off by a violent cough that wracked his lungs. Paramedics were arriving on the scene, one by one, and before Batman could respond to the man, he was rushed away to be examined for injuries. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce heard the familiar crack of the concrete as Clark landed, and noted that he had 4 victims thrown over his shoulder. 196 to go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He focused on the victims of the fire, managing to pull out 17 people. He didn’t know for sure, but he was almost certain that Superman managed to save the rest. The smoke and heat could not harm him like it could Bruce, and his ability to move as fast as Barry </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>fly made the task a hell of a lot easier for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they had spoken with MPD about what had happened in the building. They were back at the Hall of Justice, wearing civilian clothes and sitting at an almost empty table. After plenty of casual conversation, Bruce suddenly found a burst of courage and tried, not-so-subtly, to discuss Clark’s romantic life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So…” he started. “Anybody special in your life?” As soon as he had said it, he hated himself. Clark looked awkward for a moment, and Bruce felt his face flush. “I’m sorry… I just… we never really talk about our personal lives with the League and I was just-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Clark said, exhaling and hiding an awkward chuckle. “I never really talk about my love life because it’s pretty much non-existent. And that’s fine, I just didn’t peg Batman for one to make small talk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Batman was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> usually the type to make small-talk, but he felt comfortable with Clark, they had spent so much time together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh c’mon,” said Bruce, chuckling awkwardly and internally smacking himself. “Surely you must have women all over you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Clark’s turn to chuckle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh I do,” he said. His smile faded, replaced by a solemn grimace. Then he stood up and walked slowly around the table, looking contemplative. When he reached a chair closer to Bruce, Clark pulled it out and sat down on the edge, his shoulders slouching slightly. Bruce noted that he looked smaller than he usually did, almost… shy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never told anyone this before,” Clark said, quietly, staring at his hands in his lap. Bruce was almost taken aback by Clark’s demeanor. He had never seen him acting so timid before. He was confident… he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Superman</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve been working a lot together recently, and though I wasn’t sure if I could when I first met you, I trust you now,” Clark said. “I have a lot of women all over me, but it doesn’t really matter when…” he paused to inhale deeply. “It doesn’t really matter when I’m not even remotely interested in them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark continued to stare at his hands. Bruce’s breath hitched in his throat. This is not where he had expected the night to go. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not at all. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He saw Clark’s brow tense slightly, and realized that he hadn’t responded. He combed his thoughts desperately for something comforting to say, something that let Clark know that it was okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Bruce said, his voice almost cracking at the words. As soon as they had left his mouth he wished he could take them back. Clark was revealing his heart to him, and all he could do was squash a tender moment with his own complicated feelings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Bruce said, hurriedly, then trailed off: “I didn’t mean to steal…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re in love with yourself?” Clark asked, finally lifting his gaze and smirking slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce met Clark’s eyes, and for a moment he could not look away from the shining blue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what?,” he said, clumsily. He suddenly wished he had his cowl again. His face felt very hot, especially when Clark stood again and moved to the chair immediately to his left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can hear your heartbeat,” he said softly, his brow creased again, this time with concern. “You need to take some deep breaths, or you might put yourself in danger. I’m sorry if I pressured you to say anything. I didn’t mean to…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce tried his best to obey his friend, and inhaled deeply. As he was doing so, he noticed that something had changed in Clark’s expression. His brow was still furrowed, a look of deep concern for Bruce plastered all over his face, but there was something else. Some sort of deep inquisition. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Bruce could exhale, Clark's lips pressed against his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>not where Bruce had expected the night to go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he wasn't complaining.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was strong. He could feel it in the movement of his jaw as they kissed, as if he wanted to kiss Bruce harder, but had to refrain to prevent himself from hurting him. Clark’s hands had found their way to Bruce’s arms, firmly gripping his biceps as if holding him to prevent his inevitable attempt to escape.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce wanted nothing to do with escape. He kissed back, running his hands along Clark’s impeccable abdomen, loosely gripping the grey fabric of his long sleeve shirt. He didn’t even know how long they stayed like that, lips locked, hands wrapped around each other’s clothes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce went home breathless that night. Clark had offered to fly him home, but, despite their amazing kiss, Bruce decided he wasn’t quite ready to be literally swept off his feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark began to call him for every single situation, no matter how small, and each time they were finished, they resolved to return to the Hall of Justice to continue what they started after the fire. It wasn’t long before they decided to start a relationship, but they actively chose to withhold this development from the rest of the league. It was new to them, strange and wonderful, and theirs, and they didn’t want the world to know just yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first time they had sex, Bruce felt again like a flustered young teenager. He had slept with many women before, but never a man, and he didn’t really know what he was doing. Fortunately, Clark had gained his confidence back, and assured Bruce that they would figure it out together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn’t take long. They both knew the general premise and, wrapped up in each other’s arms, the intimacy between them came completely naturally. Clark was firm yet enticingly gentle. He did not hesitate to take a more dominant role, and in doing so made Bruce feel protected, calm, and all around </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they had done it once, it was impossible to stop them. Both of them had years of tension built up from hiding who they were, and both had months of pent up desire for the other’s touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was sure he had never felt so happy. His childhood trauma had followed and haunted him his entire life. He had never before felt like he truly belonged anywhere, with anyone, but laying in Clark's arms, kissing Clark, feeling their bodies intertwined, passion and lust practically seeping from their skin, Bruce felt whole. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sex, though amazing, wasn't even the best part for Bruce. For once in his life, he felt as though he had a true companion. He and Clark could talk for hours. They hadn't really known each other all that long, so both of them had a lot of learning to do. They shared stories of their childhoods, confiding in each other feelings they had not expressed before. Clark explained everything he knew about his birth planet, and Bruce listened eagerly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once he had become truly accustomed to the idea of being swept off his feet, he allowed Clark to carry him to far off places. Sloping mountains, beautiful flowered valleys, and exquisite hidden waterfalls became their regular dates, sometimes sitting and chatting, sometimes exploring together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark loved to show off for Bruce, and as much as he wanted to yell back at him that he, too, was a superhero, he couldn't bring himself to do it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark, exercising his incredible muscles, was too damn sexy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After 8 months of their relationship had passed, Batman told Superman he loved him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark had been put on assignment for a few days across the country, and so decided to take them to visit the Fortress of Solitude for a night alone. They had turned it into a sort of second home for the two of them. Bruce had funded a sort of makeshift bachelor pad, dug into the side of the rock. He had furnished it with a loveseat and television, as well as a large, steel-bottomed bed. There had been several occasions on which Clark had wanted to escape to the fortress for a few nights, and, while the Kryptonian could go more than 24 hours without sleep, middle-aged human Bruce could not. Often, Bruce would fall asleep on the couch while Clark was out in the fortress, contemplating something or trying to learn more, and he would wake up in the morning, tucked safely into the bed, Clark watching him sweetly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had gone for a walk, Bruce bundled up in several layers of coat, while Clark stuck to his plain long sleeve, as per usual. The cold did not have an affect on him, and Clark admitted that he felt Bruce looked especially adorable wrapped up so tightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn't like to see him shiver however, and within less than an hour, Bruce's whole body was shaking from the penetrative cold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Can we maybe go back soon?" Bruce had chattered. He was sure that, if not for Clark's elevated hearing, his voice would have been lost to the freezing wind, given that Clark was many yards away, interacting with a tiny penguin. "Not that this isn't actually incredibly sweet, but I'm just a little cold."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce felt a little pathetic, shivering like a small child who had been playing outside for too long, but Clark didn't seem to mind. He glided over to Bruce and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him close to his chest and wrapping his arm firmly around his back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so warm</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Bruce sighed as his muscles relaxed, leaning into the comforting warmth of his boyfriend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh Clark, I love you…" he thought aloud, not realizing what he was saying before it was too late to take it back. Clark didn't move at first, and he didn't say anything either. For a second Bruce thought that maybe he hadn't heard, but he quickly realized that it was virtually impossible. If he had heard him over the wind, he definitely heard him practically right next to his ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark moved then, still not speaking, picking Bruce up bridal style. He kicked off the ground, flying them back toward the fortress. If it hadn't been for Clark's intense body heat, Bruce was sure he would have frozen from the flight. The wind was cruel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce had expected Clark to put him down once they were back on the ground, but he did not. He continued to support his boyfriend's weight as he entered the fortress. He walked past all of the Kryptonian artifacts Clark had collected, and straight toward the pad. He gently pushed open the door with his foot and walked through, Bruce still in his arms. Bruce was slightly perplexed when he didn't stop at the couch. Clark sat him gently on the bed instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without looking into Bruce's eyes, Clark began to unzip the many layers encasing his boyfriend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce, cold and a little confused, didn't really question him. Clark was working with purpose, he just didn't know what it was. Bruce kind of wished he would just say something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Bruce was back in his regular clothes, a dark baseball tee and a pair of jeans, Clark pulled his own shirt off, and pushed Bruce gently backwards onto the bed. He climbed on top of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce had not expected this, but was delighted by the warmth that Clark's skin provided. He could feel Clark's breath on his neck as he finally spoke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I love you too," he whispered. Chills cascaded down Bruce's spine. "Can I show you how much?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark finally drew back and met Bruce's gaze. He could have answered, but instead grabbed the back of Clark's head and pressed their lips together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, a fire was lit inside Bruce and he forgot how cold he had been. He focused on Clark's body instead, combing through his chest hair with his fingers as if looking for something to pull them closer together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without breaking their kiss, Clark grasped the base of Bruce's shirt and began pulling it up over his head. They sat up, Clark straddling Bruce's hips. Bruce reluctantly let go of Clark, but only long enough for him to throw his shirt off completely. He returned to kissing his boyfriend passionately.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They moved together for a few minutes, relishing in the close, intimate contact. When it got to the point where neither man could handle waiting any longer, Clark pushed Bruce back down onto his back. He moved to whisper again, this time sending a chill through Bruce that forced him to suppress a desperate whine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I want you, Bruce. You're all mine, and I want to prove it." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Please," Bruce whispered. "I want you too."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That seemed to be the encouragement that Clark needed. He began to fumble with his own belt, kicking off his pants and leaving him practically naked.. Bruce could see the bulge in Clark’s underwear, and it only made his own pants more uncomfortably tight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark moved to unbuckle Bruce's jeans, deliberately causing enticing friction that made Bruce once again suppress a desperate whine. He was relieved when at last Clark had stripped him completely naked, but less so when he began pressing gentle kisses to Bruce's thighs.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could feel his cock pulsating, and his hips were bucking slightly, desperate for some friction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without warning, Clark took him in his mouth, his tongue swirling naturally around his tip. Bruce couldn't help it this time. He moaned deeply, eyes closed, head back, overwhelmed with pleasure. He grabbed at Clark's hair, needing to hold on to something to ground himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark did not stop until a most inconvenient time. Right when Bruce could feel himself teetering over the edge, his boyfriend pulled away, licking his lips and tugging at the waistband of his own boxers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce knew what Clark was planning, and wasn't having any of it. He sat up and quickly stole a kiss from Clark. He knew he had no chance of overpowering the kryptonian if he didnt want him to, but it didn't stop him from trying. Much to his delight, Clark allowed him to flip him over so that Bruce was on top. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pressed gentle kisses into Clark's sculpted figure, paying special attention to his pecs and his delicious V. He was not human, but Kryptonians apparently shared a few of the same sensitive spots. Bruce could feel Clark shudder under his lips, and his breathing was becoming heavier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted to be a tease, to push Clark until he was begging for attention, but he could feel his boyfriend's cock pressed up against his own, and it was almost too much for him to bear. He wasn't sure how much longer he could go before he needed to feel Clark inside him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slid backwards, bending forward to press more kisses to Clark's lower abdomen. He let his tongue lick a few of his most sensitive spots, and was thrilled to hear Clark panting, low moans escaping his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce continued to flick his tongue against Clark's warm skin, relishing in the way it made his boyfriend's hips twitch and buck. Clark was melting under Bruce's tongue, and he didn't want to stop teasing him. He reciprocated Clark's actions, taking the head of his cock into his mouth, slowly pushing all of it in and trying his best not to gag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck, Bruce. Oh, fuck," Clark panted, as Bruce began to bob his head. He could tell that Clark was getting close. Through his rapid breaths, his boyfriend said: "I want to fuck you so hard… </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce's cock twitched at Clark's words, and he moved so that they could kiss again. He had made Clark beg, and that was all he had wanted. He allowed Clark to roll them over, so that Bruce was looking up at him again. Clark pulled away for a moment, reaching for the drawer beside the bed. He took out a bottle of lube, but seemed to be fumbling for a condom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce grabbed the back of Clark's head, redirecting his gaze back to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not sleeping with anyone else, so if you're not either then fuck the condom. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want you, now.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They began kissing again, and Clark’s hands uncapped the bottle and found their way under Bruce's hips. He felt them gently cup his ass, his lower body leave the bed, and then </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Clark had slid two fingers inside him. He stretched him out, clearly delighted by the choked gasps Bruce was making. When he was satisfied, Clark lubed up his cock, lined himself up, and pushed in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was big; Bruce was full and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. He couldn't hold back his moans as Clark pulled away from his face and started rocking into him. It was uneven at first, but they quickly fell into a rhythm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark had moved so that there was a hand on either side of Bruce's head. His legs were wrapped around Clark's waist, and they were looking at each other. Bruce's hands wandered over Clark's muscular shoulders as he marvelled at how insanely gorgeous his boyfriend was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The determination, desperation, and love that Bruce could see in Clark's eyes was incredibly attractive. His heart was racing, breathing becoming more rapid, and he could feel a ball of warmth forming in his lower abdomen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Clark, fuck. I'm gonna-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark's strength was a huge asset when it came to sex. As soon as Bruce had told him he was close, he shifted his weight to one arm, maintaining the steady rhythm they had fallen into, and wrapped his hand around Bruce's throbbing cock. The combination of Clark’s sweat and precum slick hand and the feeling of his cock inside him sent Bruce hurtling over the edge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few strokes had Bruce completely undone, and he moaned loudly in pleasure as he came all over Clark’s abdomen. This sight was apparently enough to push Clark over the edge as well. His thrusts became erratic, and suddenly Bruce felt hot as Clark spilled inside him, letting out his own low moan of pleasure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled out and lowered himself beside Bruce, holding his arms open so that they could easily snuggle up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few minutes passed, then Clark said, "I've known for a while, but didn't want to say it in case you weren't ready." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce lifted his head off of Clark' shoulder, meeting his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was feeling the same way," he said, smiling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why are we so bad at this?" Clark laughed. "We wanted each other for so long and wouldn't say it, and now we've loved each other for a while and still wouldn't say.” Clark tightened his hold on Bruce. "From now on, we just tell each other how we're feeling."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With his back against the bathroom wall, Bruce couldn't help but concentrate on that promise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark had been gone for a few days now. Perry had sent him and Lois to a remote location somewhere. Clark had refused to tell Bruce where he was going, afraid that he would follow and put himself in danger. Bruce had protested, but deep down he knew that Clark would probably be fine, wherever he was. They decided on a compromise. Clark told Alfred his location, and resolved to call him if anything went wrong. At that point, Alfred could reveal to Bruce where he was, so that Batman could assist him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Clark was in danger now, Bruce feared that he wouldn't be able to help much. In the mornings he couldn't stand up without throwing up, and anytime during the day it was the same if he moved too quickly. He didn't think he could handle a car ride at the moment, much less a flight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew it made no sense. He knew it was impossible, but he was intelligent and recognized all of the signs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The throwing up, the dizziness, the irritability and exhaustion. Not to mention, his chest was inexplicably sore, and slightly swollen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew that Alfred knew something was wrong, but desperately hoped that he was not as observant this time around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce slowly dragged himself to his feet. He did not want to stand, but he knew that the longer he stayed on the floor, the more suspicious Alfred would be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He headed to the kitchen, praying that Alfred had clued in enough to know he didn't want much to eat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had, evidently, as the butler was sitting at the table enjoying a cup of coffee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sick again, Master Bruce?" He asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes," he sighed, tying his robe more tightly around his body, suddenly feeling rather self conscious. "Sick again."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Would you like me to contact Master Clark?" Alfred asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, thank you. He'll just come home right away and that's really not necessary." Bruce sighed again. "If you wouldn't mind though, Alfred, I do need to arrange a visit with Dr. Thompkins. Please tell her it’s urgent."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After his discussion with Alfred, Bruce returned to his room. He pulled on one of Clark's hoodies. He had forgotten it in his room a few weeks earlier, but Bruce hadn't even mentioned it. He loved wearing it, because it was big on him. Bruce was strong, but Clark was stronger. His shoulders were broader and his torso was longer, so his sweaters were incredibly comfortable. He tugged on a pair of jeans under the sweater, trying not to think about the fact that if he was right, even Clark’s clothes might not fit him for much longer.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Leslie had been busy with her clinic, but when Alfred assured her of the urgency as well as the symptoms Bruce was experiencing, she could hardly turn him away. In fact, she practically insisted upon clearing her schedule.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She suspects the same as me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bruce thought. Apparently a potential male pregnancy was more interesting than her other patients.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Realistically, Bruce could have gone to a regular doctor for this issue. But, realizing that if he was in fact pregnant with Clark’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>half-Kryptonian </span>
  </em>
  <span>baby, it would be necessary to have someone who had seemingly already seen it all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie had always helped him when he needed it, and had always kept Bruce’s secret. She was possibly the only person he trusted to continue to do so, and so decided that she was the best person to be responsible for the league’s medical care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was waiting outside when they pulled up to the curb of the clinic. The building was large and had a concrete exterior. It was discreetly labelled; Leslie worked in the toughest part of Gotham, where secrecy and skepticism practically ran through its inhabitants' blood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce,” Leslie said, reaching out her hand for him to shake. “Good to see you again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce took her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Likewise,” he said politely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie smiled, then turned her attention to Alfred.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am happy to bring him home after we are finished here,” she said, calmly. “Honestly, my main concern is that I’m not sure how long this is going to take.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred nodded and crossed his hands behind his back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I understand, Dr. Thompkins. However, I am perfectly content to wait as long as is necessary to ensure Master Wayne is returned home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie nodded. “In that case, you’re welcome to come inside, although I’m afraid you can’t come down to the lab with us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was glad that Alfred was not with them when they stepped off the elevator. There was a surprisingly small room before them, considering the size of the building. A few intimidating pieces of medical equipment sat in one corner, and a hospital bed was pushed against the wall not far away. There were several lab benches set up along another wall, what appeared to be a refrigerator sitting on top of one. Microscopes, work lights and various other medical tools were also perched atop the benches. Bruce could see several scalpels, and began to feel slightly uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It all looks intimidating, I’m sure,” Leslie said, warmly. “I have a lot of unnecessary equipment. I never know what to expect, so I just try to be prepared at all times.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded. Leslie walked over to the cot, and patted the mattress, indicating that she wanted Bruce to have a seat. He complied, grateful that her clinic was still spotless despite its unfortunate location.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So Alfred told me on the phone that you’ve been throwing up at least once a day, mostly in the morning, sometimes prompted by quick movement.” Bruce hadn’t even noticed the stethoscope around her neck until her hand was under his shirt, the cold metal was pressed to his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounds about right,” He responded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Any other symptoms I should know about?” She asked, looking genuinely concerned. “Remember, even if we’re dealing with what I think we’re dealing with, I’m here to help you, not to judge you. I’ve never judged you for your gunshot wounds, I won’t for anything else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded again, taking a deep breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My chest has been sore,” Bruce said. “I’ve been extremely tired, and my stomach flips at the thought or smell of food.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help but notice Leslie’s small smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce,” she said, softly. “You’re a very smart man who can take care of himself. And when you can’t, you’ve got that </span>
  <em>
    <span>dashing</span>
  </em>
  <span> butler of yours to step in. Something about this problem brought you to me, though, which makes me think that you know what these symptoms usually indicate, and most likely also indicate in your situation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it even possible?” He asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Surprisingly, yes,” she said. “I’ve heard of cases before, but I’ve never actually seen one. It’s typically a sort of malfunction in the genetic makeup of the individual. It’s very rare, but doesn’t at all indicate that there is anything wrong with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m just a man, who somehow has gotten himself pregnant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Essentially, yes. Men who can become pregnant are referred to as carriers,” she explained. “Carriers’ genetic code indicates that they are, chromosomally, male. However, for some reason this code doesn’t properly communicate during development and so you developed a uterus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was kind of a relief, knowing that there had been other cases before his own, that he was not the only man to have felt this confusion and fear, but it also made him shudder. How had this been a part of him that he never knew about?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The majority of carriers never know about it, because, statistically, most of them are straight,” she said, sensing his turmoil.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So because I’ve had sex with a man…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Leslie nodded. “Even then, sometimes it still doesn’t show because it is highly unlikely for the embryo to actually successfully attach, if fertilization does occur. I’m going to run some tests on you, because based on your symptoms it appears that yours has.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded again. He didn’t know what to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your heart sounds strong, and you’re breathing perfectly well. Aside from the morning sickness and occasionally nausea, you seem to be in perfect health. I’d like to take a blood test, urine test, and karyotype to make sure that what I’m thinking is correct, if that’s alright.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce let Leslie get to work. He wasn’t the biggest fan of being poked and prodded, but he did appreciate her taking the time to help him. She set up various pieces of equipment, inserted his samples, and returned to the cot where he was now lying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have to wait for the results for the karyotype,” she said. “While I am, I’d like to do a brief physical examination.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Bruce nodded, she requested he remove his sweater. She began to press on his lower abdomen, moving in small circles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just tell me if you feel anything painful,” she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a minute, they both stayed quiet. When she felt satisfied with her exam, she stepped back. Bruce dressed himself, leaning into his own shoulder. It smelled like Clark. He was feeling stressed, confused, and overwhelmed, and he just realized how much he missed his boyfriend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Have you told the father yet?" Leslie asked. She had noticed the sweater then. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"About that," Bruce sighed. "This might be a little more complicated than just a male pregnancy." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie didn't say anything, at first just looked inquisitive. Before Bruce could finish though, she smiled slightly. “It’s Clark’s, isn’t it? I thought you two might end up together."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce shook his head and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion and exasperation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It hasn't even been a year yet though, and I don't even know how to handle being pregnant with any baby, much less a half-Kryptonian baby." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Admittedly, it does complicate a few things. I think I'll plan on checking up on you a bit more often if that's okay," she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course," Bruce responded. "Thank you for helping me, Leslie. I know you’ve never worked with a Kryptonian, but I trust you, and this is going to be really difficult without you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie nodded. "I’m honoured to help bring Batman and Superman's baby into this world."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A timer rang across the room, and Leslie made her way over to the bench. She toyed around with something silently for several minutes, then turned around and said: “I was right, you’re a carrier.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She came back over to Bruce, a few sheets of paper in her hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you’re definitely pregnant. Based on your symptoms, and the level of HCG in your blood and urine, I would say just over 2 months along. Does that make sense?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce sighed, and laid his head in his hands. He remembered the night in the fortress, when he had told Clark to scrap the condom. He didn’t know this was possible but, thinking again of the promise they had made, he resolved that he needed to tell Clark as soon as possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it makes sense.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know it probably all seems overwhelming,” she said, kindly. “But this could be a really good thing. My advice would be to talk to Clark. In fact, I would like to see you in around a month to check up on you, so maybe you could bring him. He might know a thing or two about Kryptonian gestation periods.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie directed him to where she had left Alfred, and the two of them walked to the car in silence, and the actual drive passed much the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they had reentered the manor, Bruce looked at Alfred and noticed that his brow was creased in great concern.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred,” Bruce said, apologetically. “I know it isn’t fair for me to hide this from you, and I promise I will tell you as soon as I can, but I really feel this is something that I need to talk with Clark about first.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred flashed a small, understanding smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Master Wayne, I believe that you will inform me at a time that is most appropriate. For now, I must insist that you get some rest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce didn’t need to be told twice to go to sleep. All of the tests, Leslie’s physical examination of him, and their discussion, had taken over an hour at the lab, and so he was feeling quite tired.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mind was racing, but his physical exhaustion took precedent. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slept until the late evening, only waking when he felt the mattress dip beside him. Clark was home earlier than he had thought he would be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opened his eyes and rolled over, but before Clark came into view, his stomach flipped. He darted out of bed and to the ensuite, barely making it to the toilet before retching. He hadn’t eaten anything before he fell asleep; so he had nothing to throw up, and yet his body continued to dry heave for several minutes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a quiet knock at the door. Of course, Clark wanted to come in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just a minute,” Bruce said, mustering all of the strength he had. The door was unlocked, but he hoped Clark wouldn’t try to open it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please let me come in,” Clark said. Bruce could hear the concern dripping in his words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not decent,” Bruce responded, his stomach still flipping mildly. He didn’t want to throw up anymore. It was so uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You say that like I can’t already see you through the door. Please let me in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce moved as if he was going to open the door, but couldn’t. He began retching again, and he couldn’t help but groan in frustration. He swallowed thickly, trying to suppress the rising bile in his gut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark obviously saw his distress, as the door swung open moments later. Bruce felt a strong hand press against his back, moving in a soothing circular motion. He closed his eyes, relaxing into the touch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred says it’s been like this all week,” Clark said, worry etched across his face. “I wish you would have called.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t want you to leave work,” Bruce said, the wave of nausea finally beginning to dissipate. He leaned his head against the cold tile wall, breathing deeply. “I missed you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I missed you too,” Clark said. He reached a hand over and moved Bruce’s hair away from his sweat-soaked forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce pressed his head against Clark’s palm. “I wanna go lay down again,” he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded and stood, stooping to lift Bruce into his arms. He carried him back to their bed and laid him down gently, trying desperately not to move him suddenly and cause him to be sick again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce sighed heavily, and curled into Clark’s side as soon as he had settled too. They laid there for a few minutes in silence, before Clark spoke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what’s going on, Bruce, but Alfred said that you went to see Leslie Thompkins yesterday and she ran a bunch of tests.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did she find anything? Do you know why you’ve been throwing up so much?” Clark sounded so unsure, and so concerned for his partner’s health. Bruce suddenly felt a wave of panic rising in him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What if Clark didn’t want a child? They were both superheroes, busy saving lives almost every day. What if he wasn’t ready to sacrifice part of that life? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And what about the Justice League? Now they not only would have to reveal that they’re in a relationship, but also that he, Batman, was pregnant. It was all too much for Bruce.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark sensed his tension, and wrapped him tightly into his arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shhh… shhh…” he soothed, running a hand through Bruce’s damp hair. “Oh Bruce, I should have been there…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark didn’t push any further, and Bruce let him hold him and comfort him. It wasn’t something that he often did, and he mentally cursed his pregnancy for already making him weak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can look if you’d rather,” Clark said, quietly. “I could use my vision, maybe at least get an idea of what’s going on if it’s too hard to say out loud.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce contemplated this suggestion for a minute, ultimately deciding that he’d rather say it aloud to Clark. It would be better for him if he heard it first from Bruce, rather than seeing it with his x-ray vision. Not to mention, he honestly wasn't sure if it was a good idea to use the x-ray vision on the baby, or even how big it was. He had been so overwhelmed by the fact that he was pregnant that he hadn’t even really asked Leslie any questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Bruce said, his voice cracking a little. “I can tell you. I don’t want to make you wait anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark gently lifted Bruce again, just enough so that he was sitting up resting on some pillows. He settled in next to him and placed a hand on Bruce’s hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever is wrong, Bruce, I’m not going anywhere. I can’t think of anything that could change the way I feel about you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce took a deep breath, and started from the beginning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leslie and I both had a suspicion, based on my symptoms. So, she did a karyotype of my genetics, and it turns out I’m a carrier.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His partner nodded hesitantly. Clearly Clark was as unaware of this possibility as he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know what that meant, so she explained it to me. Basically it means that while I was developing as a baby, something went wrong with my genetic coding. In every other biological way, I’m a male, but I also somehow have a fully functional uterus.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark blinked, clearly very confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So... “ he said. “Are you getting sick because of that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce had really hoped that Clark would have picked up on it by now so that he wouldn’t have to say it, but he hadn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said. “I’m pregnant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s eyes widened. Bruce could tell that this is not where he had expected this to go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So,” Clark said, finally. “You’re not dying?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce chuckled, wiping at his face with his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m not dying. Leslie says I’m actually perfectly healthy, and in very fit condition to carry our baby to term.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Bruce,” Clark said, pulling him in and squeezing him tightly to his chest. “Oh my God, I’m so relieved. When Alfred told me all that was happening and that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>went to a doctor I was worried that something was horribly wrong!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re not upset?” Bruce said, trying not to let the relief show on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course not!” Clark said, smiling. “Why on Earth would I be upset?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Bruce said. “I’m a man, I’m not supposed to get knocked up. I thought you’d maybe want to leave me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce, this is… this is incredible,” Clark said. He pulled away for a second to look directly into his boyfriend’s eyes. “I would never leave you. There is nothing that could make me leave you. And now… you’re having our baby! It’s wonderful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce didn’t know why he was so relieved. If he had thought logically for ten seconds instead of allowing his emotions to take over, he would have realized that </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> Clark wouldn’t leave him. They hadn’t really been dating long enough to talk about the possibility of kids, but Bruce knew that Clark had always wanted them. One was just coming earlier and in a different way than he might have expected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So have you told anyone but me?” Clark asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Leslie obviously knows, but I haven’t told Alfred because I wanted to tell you first. I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until Friday?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our source dropped. The only reason we weren’t home sooner was because we couldn’t get a flight. I was tempted to just fly home myself, but I didn’t think my mother would be pleased if she found out I left Lois. And there is no way that I could carry her that far. Too dangerous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to have to tell the League,” Clark said. “I didn’t want things to go wrong and have us mess something up, but…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But now I’ve gone and messed everything up anyway,” Bruce finished, rubbing his hand across his forehead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Clark said. “You haven’t messed anything up. We were being silly anyway, they’re going to be fine with us being together, especially if even </span>
  <em>
    <span>Leslie</span>
  </em>
  <span> already suspected we were. If she can figure it out, only being around us once in a while, I wouldn’t be surprised if the League knows too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took Bruce’s hand away from his forehead, and brought his knuckles to his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Besides,” he smiled. “It takes two to make a baby.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They told Alfred a few days later. He was very confused by the news, but resolved to say that it all made perfect sense. He was very happy for Bruce and Clark, and made it very clear that he was there to help should the need arise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They told the League a few weeks later, and they took the news of their relationship well. Clark was right, they had apparently all figured it out. Save for Barry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What gives now?” Arthur asked, shortly after they had told them. “Why keep it a secret until today?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce took a breath. It was shakier than he would have liked, and Clark squeezed his hand under the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, we got some really good news,” Clark started. “We’re going to have a baby.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were gasps all around the table, followed by excitement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“From where? Are you adopting? Surrogate? Are you getting married?” Questions were flying at them, and suddenly, Bruce felt very self-conscious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No we are not adopting, and there is no surrogate,” Clark answered, quieting everyone down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then how…?” Victor asked. Everyone was frowning, except Diana.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Which one of you is a carrier?” she asked, smiling widely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How did you know?” Bruce asked, finally speaking up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I helped one once in France a few years ago. He and his partner were tourists, and we were on a train together. He was very far along, and started having contractions on the train. I helped him find a hospital, and waited with his husband. He explained it to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was relieved when Diana explained everything to everyone else. They listened to her intently, and were all in disbelief when she finished.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold up,” Arthur said. “So Clark, you’re pregnant?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Clark said, grinning. “Bruce is pregnant. We didn’t know it was possible. A happy accident, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Batman is pregnant,” Arthur repeated back to him. Bruce nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you two have… uh…” Barry stuttered, clearly shocked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Barry Allen,” Diana scolded. Clark laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” Clark said. “Lots of times.” Bruce was snickering beside him at Barry’s horror. “Try to get that picture out of your mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They bantered for a few more minutes, asking their questions and celebrating with them, until finally Victor breached what they had all been thinking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what does this mean for Batman?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce answered before Clark could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m still Batman,” he said. “I’ve already talked to Dr. Thompkins. She’s agreed to help me get through this. Until she says I can’t go out anymore, I will still be Batman. Once I start to show though, I don’t know if I’ll be able to anymore anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce will have to be extremely careful at all times,” Clark said, raising his eyebrows. “And even if he thinks he’s fine, he will </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to follow Dr. Thompkins’s orders. I will make sure he does.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Arthur chuckled. “We’ll have a little baby Kryptonian running around here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce smiled, and looked over at Clark who suddenly seemed very pale. He tried to make eye contact, but he was looking intently at the floor. In an effort to potentially end the meeting sooner so that he could talk to Clark, Bruce let out a dramatic yawn. It wasn’t exactly exaggerating, he was very exhausted and he had another appointment with Leslie the next day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce must be very tired,” Diana said, kindly. “We should let him go home and rest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The League agreed, and they went their separate ways. Clark snapped out of his daze long enough to say goodbye to everyone and thank them for their words of support, but Bruce could tell that something was off. Once they were safely away from everyone Bruce confronted Clark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something is bothering you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark tried to shake him off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, I’m fine,” he lied. Bruce shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” he said. “You’re not. Your whole demeanor changed after Arthur said the thing about the baby running around. Remember our promise, Clark.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hadn’t thought about it before,” Clark said, covering his eyes with his hands.  “The baby is half-Kryptonian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bruce said. “It is. I mentioned that to Leslie. That’s why she wanted you to come with me tomorrow. We’re going to talk about what that means for the baby, and for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark didn’t look very relieved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How could I have done this to you?” Clark said. “We have no idea what it means, what will happen to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll figure it out,” Bruce tried to ease his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a human, Bruce,” Clark said, dropping his hands. “Our baby could…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leslie is very smart,” Bruce said, interrupting him. “And she’s actually had some experience with metahumans. You’ll feel better once you talk to her, I promise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Clark who drove them out to the clinic the following day. Leslie was outside again, and explained to Bruce that they were going to go up to a different room. They followed her, and wound up in another small room with a cot, but much less scary-looking medical equipment. She gave Bruce a medical gown, and left them alone so that he could change. Once he was finished, she returned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hop up,” Leslie said, patting to the bed again. Bruce obeyed, and Clark went around to stand on the other side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She ran the same few tests as she did the first time, minus the karyotype. It took a lot less time this time around, and she was pleased to report that it all looked normal. Then she asked Bruce if he would allow her to do an external exam.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s awkward,” she said. “But it would give me an idea of what’s going on down there, to make sure that what I think is going to happen is actually what is going to happen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce sighed heavily and looked at Clark, who gave him an apologetic smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The more we know, the better prepared we are,” he said sheepishly. “Believe me, I’m about as thrilled as you are for anyone other than me to see your-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, just do it,” Bruce said, his face turning red. He reluctantly stripped off his boxers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was very efficient, snapping her gloves off three minutes later. She stood and walked to the other side of the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m also going to do an ultrasound,” she said, pulling a cart toward them and dimming the lights. “It should help me determine more definitively how far along you are, and see if there are any obvious differences from a full human pregnancy. Sounds good?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both men nodded, and Bruce tugged his boxers back on. He laid back on the cot again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be cold,” she said, sympathetically, squeezing a transparent gel onto his lower abdomen. She pressed the wand into the base of Bruce’s stomach, moving it slowly around and eyeing the screen. “The location of your uterus is different from a woman’s. It’ll take a minute to find.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While she looked, she asked Clark a few questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, Superman, how much do you know about Kryptonian pregnancies?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark scoffed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please just call me Clark, when Bruce isn’t Batman, I’m not Superman.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie laughed. “I’m sorry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clark</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really know anything, unfortunately. I was the only naturally conceived and born child on Krypton in the last century, “ he answered. “And even so, my birth parents had very limited knowledge of what they were doing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie nodded solemnly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I was hoping we would have a little more to work with, but we’ll manage.” She focused her attention back to the monitor.  “I’m not saying this to scare you, Bruce, but this pregnancy is going to take a toll on your body. When he gets big enough, he’s going to move around and eventually start to kick. If he has his father’s physical strength, it’s not going to feel pretty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded and said: “I hope he does.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark looked very concerned. He looked at Bruce hesitantly, then apologetically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is awkward,” he started, looking over to Leslie. “But do you know how… you know, when it’s time to…like will we have to...” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie chuckled, as Bruce began to turn very pale in anticipation of Clark’s question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I reminded Bruce of this when he first came to me-- I’m here to be your doctor, not to judge you at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark looked appreciative.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As for your question,” she said. “I’m assuming you’re curious as to what will happen when Bruce is ready to give birth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark looked appreciative again, looked at Bruce and said: “Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Leslie said. “As you likely know, a woman’s uterus is directly attached to the cervix. When her labor begins, the cervix starts to open to allow the baby to pass through.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had turned and was trying to give a sort of visual with her hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Based on what I saw during Bruce’s physical exam,” she said. “It will work almost entirely the same as a woman, except...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He's going to come out of my ass."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark looked ill. Leslie bust out laughing, but nodded. Bruce wasn't surprised. In fact, he was kind of relieved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d prefer it that way,” he said. “I don’t want him to have to be cut out of me. I didn’t know if it would be possible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is,” Leslie smiled. “And because you’re a carrier, your body is designed to do this just as much as a woman’s is. You’re more flexible externally, and it will be the same internally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clark would be wiggling his eyebrows if he didn’t look so sick.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bruce thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There is one concern I have,” Leslie said, returning her gaze to the screen. “If the baby is as strong as Clark, it might prove to be a little more complicated.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark finally came to his senses at the sound of his name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How so?” he asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Leslie said. “When a human baby is born, sometimes their bodies morph to fit through the birth canal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you mean like when some babies come out with elongated heads and stuff?” Clark asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. The problem with a Kryptonian child is that…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No wiggle room,” Bruce said, looking down at the floor seriously. “So if he stretches me to my limit, that’s it. He won’t be helping at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately not,” Leslie said. “Fortunately, though, if he happens to get stuck, his body demands much less oxygen than a human baby. It would give us more time for you to either work him free with your contractions, or we could resort to forceps if we have to. I’m hoping we don’t run into anything like this, but I wanted to make it very clear this is a possibility.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark and Bruce were looking at each other. Bruce could see a hint of fear in Clark’s eyes, but he was confident there was none in his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be able to do it,” he said, looking firmly into Clark’s eyes. “Even if there are complications, I will get him out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie smiled gently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope that courage is still there after a few hours of labor, especially considering the next point I want to bring up,” she said. “Because the baby is Kryptonian, I don’t know how his body might react to standard human medicine. Since you are currently sustaining him via an umbilical cord, anything that goes in your body also goes into his.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So no pain medication,” Bruce said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure there’s nothing that-” Clark started. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Clark,” Bruce said. He had expected this. “I am not putting our baby at risk because I’m in a bit of pain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark looked concerned. Leslie nodded, and turned back to the screen. Then, she smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I found the baby.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both Clark and Bruce immediately looked at the screen. It didn’t look like much at first, just a small blob of grey, but as Leslie explained to them what each body part they were looking at was, it began to look more like a very small, oddly shaped human being.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce had told himself he wouldn’t cry, but he couldn’t help it. Between the baby’s developing hands, feet, and head, and the awe-struck look in Clark’s eyes... he felt a wave of emotion that he couldn’t control.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark pulled his gaze away from the screen, and looked at Bruce.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you so much,” he whispered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie let them have a moment, and focused her attention on the screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she finally said. “So, it looks to me like the baby is healthy. Maybe physically a little bigger than I had anticipated, but some surprises are to be expected. We’re really going to have to monitor you closely, Bruce. We don’t know how long you’re going to be pregnant, which is a little intimidating, but I’m guessing that we can still expect it to be around the 9 month mark. If anything, a little sooner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She started to put away her equipment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been referring to your baby as a he just habitually,” she said. “But I did happen to catch the actual gender if you’d like to know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce wanted to know. He had wanted to from the beginning, and was thrilled when he turned to see Clark’s eager smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes please,” Clark said, grabbing Bruce’s hand as he sat up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then keep calling him a him,” she said, smiling. “You’re having a boy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark drew a sharp breath, and Bruce was very surprised to see that he had tears in his eyes. He squeezed his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that okay?” Bruce asked. He hadn’t really minded either way, but clearly Clark was either very happy or disappointed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s perfect,” Clark said, his voice cracking slightly. He sniffled and looked at Bruce, returning the squeeze. “I won’t be the last born son of Krypton anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce stood and the two embraced, Clark so giddy he lifted Bruce’s feet off the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With congratulations and a promise to check in weekly by phone as well from now on, Leslie sent them on their way, arranging to meet with them again in five weeks. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! I love seeing your comments.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apparently I also love me a bit of drama in these fics. ha.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next few weeks went by relatively quickly and calmly. Gotham City, for whatever reason, had decided to stay relatively safe. No freak accidents, no strange crimes, just people going to and coming from work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark had decided to stay in Gotham for an indefinite amount of time as well, so Bruce had company and someone other than Alfred to keep an eye on him. On a few occasions he had flown over to Metropolis to help with small incidents. There was a car accident for example, limited injuries considering the damage done to the car. Clark went to check it out only because Alfred informed him they were struggling to open the doors with the jaws of life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Superman flew in, threw off the doors, carried the young couple to safety, and took off again. He was only gone for about 20 minutes, but as soon as he got back he went straight to Bruce, who was working in the Batcave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you okay? Did anything happen?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I am completely fine," he said over his shoulder. "You've only been gone 20 minutes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark walked up to him, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders. Bruce leaned into his grip as he felt Clark plant a gentle kiss into his hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Anything could happen in 20 minutes," Clark sighed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know," Bruce said, gently. "But Clark, I'm only 3 months along right now. I have 6 more months of this, and since you're already insistent that I shouldn't go out fighting crime, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make sure that you keep our cities safe even if it means leaving me for a few hours once in a while."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark didn’t respond, only pulled Bruce closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Batman suddenly began to stare at the computer screen, particularly intently at a red dot on a map near the middle of the screen. He could tell that Clark was looking at it too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said nothing was wrong,” Clark said, pulling away slowly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t,” Bruce said, leaning forward. “The alarm just went off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They heard rapid footsteps behind them, and Alfred came rushing into the large room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Master Bruce, Master Clark,” he said, urgently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We see,” Bruce said. “Do you know anything else?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but they sent out a distress signal on top of the alarm,” Alfred said. “The last time this happened so quickly, it was a mass breakout.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce made to stand up, but Clark pushed him back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. I’ll call Diana, or Arthur,” he said, gruffly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to try standing up again,” Bruce said, almost in a low growl. “And unless you want to hurt me, you better let me. This is my city. These are </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> enemies.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark stepped back, but Bruce could tell by the look on his face that he was not pleased. He didn’t particularly care as he donned his suit and prepared to leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark hadn’t changed out of his own, and so vowed to meet Bruce there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be careful,” Clark said, his brow creasing with worry. He took off running, and moments later Bruce heard the crack that signaled Clark had taken off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please do,” Alfred said, taking the seat from which Bruce had just stood. “I’m turning the comlink on, and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>call me if it’s more than you can take.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded and took off in the Batmobile, sights set straight on Arkham Asylum. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was chaos when they arrived. It wasn’t entirely clear how they had managed to pull it off, but there was a gaping hole in the back wall of the concrete building.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could tell that the staff at the asylum had managed to round up several of the escapees, but not all of them. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bane towering above everyone around him and fighting Superman.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce took a deep breath. He knew that Clark would be okay fighting him. Bane was strong, but not as strong as Clark. It wouldn’t take him long to get him incarcerated again. Even then, though, it would take him too long. Criminals--murdering psychotic criminals--were escaping the asylum.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred,” Bruce said. “We need them. Too much is going on here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few moments, Alfred responded: “They’re on their way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce didn’t know where to start, so he took off into the mass of people. All sorts of human back up had arrived, and were somehow successfully taking down some of the villains. He managed to injure a few escapees with his batarangs, and saw them taken away in their moments of weakness. Across the rubble, he caught sight of a flash of green hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Joker,” he mumbled to himself, taking a step forward. “I bet you started all this bullshit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” said a voice behind Bruce. A strong arm grabbed his shoulder and wrenched a knife close enough to the side of his neck that Bruce felt it dig very shallowly into his flesh. The figure pressed his mouth directly against Bruce’s ear. “I did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce felt a sharp stabbing pain in his upper leg, and almost immediately felt dizzy. As he collapsed, he caught sight of Lex Luthor standing above him, a sickening smile on his face. Then the world went black.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce woke up in a small, dark room. He was laying on a concrete block, his wrists and ankles cuffed and attached to the base by a thin metal cord. He had no idea where he was, but he remembered who had captured him. His heart was pounding hard. He lay on the table, his stomach exposed in just a pair of sweatpants. He felt vulnerable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His first thought was of the baby. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled at his restraints, instinctually trying to place a hand on his abdomen. When he couldn’t move, he lifted his head and looked to see if there was any obvious damage. He was relieved when there wasn’t. His stomach looked completely normal, save for the fact that his abs were a lot less defined. Instead of his muscles, there was a tiny bump. He was starting, very slowly, to show. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hated that he noticed it for the first time while alone and trapped somewhere under Lex Luthor’s control.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re awake,” he heard the voice say, as a door creaked open somewhere behind him. “Good morning, Mr. Wayne.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce’s lip curled as Luthor stepped into view.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you’re going to do,” he snarled. “Just fucking do it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luthor laughed aloud, and Bruce tried to suppress the anger roaring through him. He knew it was what Luthor wanted. He loved a reaction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to do anything to you,” Luthor said. “No, no, no. I didn’t bring you here because I wanted to hurt you, Bruce. I brought you here because I want to hurt Superman.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did you inject me with?” Bruce said, trying to remain calm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why does it matter? It’s left your body, clearly, or you wouldn’t be awake. Batman... is there some reason you don’t want certain anaesthetics in your body?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce’s stomach dropped, but he knew there was no way Luthor could know. Nobody outside of the manor knew but the League and Leslie, and he trusted everyone. Luthor didn’t know where the Hall of Justice was, so there was no way it could have been bugged, and Leslie’s lab was fitted with top notch security, courtesy of WayneTech.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apparently his fear had been written all over his face, however, as he saw Lex perk up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There is!” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Oh boy, what has the bat been up to?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce tried to keep as emotionless as possible, and desperately avoided looking at his stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There isn’t,” he lied. “I’m just not a huge fan of the idea of a mass-murderer injecting any sort of substance into my bloodstream.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe that for a second,” Luthor said, a devilish smile on his face. “I really don’t, but I commend your efforts. You might have convinced anyone else but,” he leaned in closer to Bruce’s face and whispered: “I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>smell</span>
  </em>
  <span> the fear on you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce inhaled slowly, trying to calm his heartbeat. Lex stood up and threw his hands in the air, visibly agitated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Try again!” he yelled, unnecessarily loud. “You know I’ll find out no matter what.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce tried to think fast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I started a new painkiller,” he lied again. “Experimental. Might be an interaction.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luthor contemplated this for a second, clearly trying to determine if Bruce was lying or not. Without saying anything, he disappeared from the room and returned a moment later holding a syringe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve sparked my intrigue, Batman,” he said. “Let’s see if you’re telling the truth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce didn’t even protest. He knew it was useless and would only fuel Luthor’s suspicion. He prayed that whatever test Luthor was going to do on his blood wouldn’t detect HCG, and that somehow, in the mess that was Arkham Asylum at the moment, Clark would notice he was no longer there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lex came back into the room about 10 minutes later, smirking smugly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Batman, Batman, Batman,” he said, still smirking. “How did you end up in this predicament?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce’s heart was pounding again. He had managed to calm himself down a little while Lex was gone, but now that he had returned, he desperately wanted to be able to touch his stomach, to offer some sort of external protection for his baby.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fun fact,” Luthor said. “I’m also a carrier!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce’s stomach dropped all over again. He had figured it out for sure. Lex came up to the table and bent over so that he was close to Bruce’s face again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The difference between you and I?” He whispered. “I’m not a faggot who fucks aliens.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He spat in Bruce’s face, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, sharp, glowing green rock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kryptonite.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was just too good, the moment I realized you and Supes were an item. I had always thought he was more of a ladies’ man, but I guess not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He chuckled, passing the Kryptonite between his hands and making his way around the table where Bruce was lying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But a little baby?” He squealed in sick delight. “An itty bitty wittle defenseless baby, is too much! I can’t handle it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lex turned back to face him, gripping the Kryptonite blade tightly in his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Even more defenseless than you,” he sneered. “Pathetic excuse for a superhero, in my opinion. It disgusts me to even try to imagine you as a father.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lex moved his hand toward Bruce’s abdomen. Bruce yelled in fury and pain as the Kryptonite blade pierced just below his navel. He pulled mercilessly at the restraint on his wrists, thrashing and cursing violently as Luthor dug the knife deeper into his flesh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whether his adrenaline gave him strength enough to break his bonds, or Luthor just did an absolute shit job of tying him up, Bruce would never know. He didn’t particularly care, the anger surging through his veins pulled his right arm free of its bind and sent his fist flying directly toward Luthor’s face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One solid punch to the jaw was all it took to knock him out cold. Luthor may have been a psychopath, but he was only human. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce looked down at his wound, attempting to rapidly assess his situation. It was fairly long and seemed to be relatively deep as well, but not enough to have harmed his baby. His primary concern was blood loss, so he tried his best to make quick work of freeing his other hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thin wire was pliable, and with several precise wrist movements, Bruce was able to free his left hand as well. Immediately, he reached down to the restraints on his ankles, cursing at the burn the movement caused. He twisted the wires at his feet as well, freeing himself with only slightly more difficulty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rose to his feet then, gingerly pressing his left hand against the bleeding wound. He bent over Luthor, unknotting the tie around his neck and folding it several times over. He replaced his bare palm with the thick fabric, wincing as he applied as much pressure as he could withstand. Then he stumbled toward the door, ramming his shoulder into it repeatedly until the lock buckled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could feel beads of sweat pooling at the base of his scalp. He would begin to shiver soon as he lost more and more blood. He pressed tighter on the makeshift tourniquet as he made his way up the bland concrete hallway he now found himself in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It only took a few minutes for Bruce to realize that he was at one of Lex’s facilities, and a few moments more to realize that it was the one in Gotham.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Typical,” Bruce muttered to himself, gasping as he put additional pressure on his cut. “Can’t even make it a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> plan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce found a staircase and began to climb as best as he could, sneaking quietly and intently toward the upper levels of the building. At one point, he turned a corner and caught a glimpse of Mercy Graves’ back, but even in his injured state he was stealthy. He managed to make his way to the top floor of LexCorp without being seen, where he found and pulled the fire alarm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By that point, however, he had very little strength. Without the suit, he was without his belt and the tools he carried with him. With everything he had, Bruce pulled down on the latch of the closest window, which opened forcefully as his body collapsed into it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clark. I’m at LexCorp, top floor,” he panted. It would have been barely audible to the human ear in the same room, but he prayed Clark had heard it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t really know how long he laid there. While it felt like hours, it was likely only minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would have been relieved to see Clark had the burning pain in his abdomen not been taking away his senses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He heard the crashing of glass, but not Clark’s angry and panicked voice. He could not make out Clark’s desperate words: “You’re okay, Bruce, fuck, you can’t fucking die.” He did not feel Clark press his hands desperately over his abdominal wounds, replacing the tie he had dropped on the way down, or the hot tears sliding off his boyfriend’s cheeks and onto his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was unconscious by the time they arrived at Leslie’s clinic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barry lapped the building to find Leslie, and brought her back to Clark. As fast as they could go without worsening the wound, Clark, Victor, and Arthur carried Bruce down to the basement room where he had first found out he was pregnant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Barry,” Leslie said, not looking away from Bruce’s body. “I need you to staunch the wound for me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had retrieved a very thick wad of gauze and was pressing it firmly into the mess of blood and torn tissue, the tie now discarded on the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barry obliged, allowing Leslie to pull her stethoscope from around her neck. Clark knelt by Bruce’s head. He could hear Bruce’s heartbeat and, though it was faint, had decided to use it as a focal point for his own anxiety. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, Bruce, please please please don’t you die on me,” He said, pressing his forehead against Bruce’s pale one. “Please please please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Baby’s still alive,” Leslie said, pulling her stethoscope away. “Based on the heartbeat, Luthor used something to weaken him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kryptonite,” Clark said, his head still resting against Bruce. “He knows. I don’t know how he knows. How could he know… how could I let him see…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie left Bruce’s body for a second, grabbing a sort of lamp off of one of the benches. She set it up and clicked it on so that a yellowish light was shining on Bruce’s wound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It mimics sunlight,” she said, taking over for Barry. “It’s solar energy. If Luthor did use Kryptonite, it should restore the baby’s strength.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded and watched as Leslie pulled the gauze away from Bruce’s wound. He could see it more clearly now. It wasn’t as large as he originally feared, maybe three and a half inches long. His stomach writhed in anger at the thought of Luthor inflicting even that much damage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Victor, Arthur, Barry, and Diana had silently made their way out of the room, recognizing that the last thing Leslie, Bruce, and Clark needed were spectators.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My fault…” Clark said, tears spilling from his eyes. “All my fault...careless...unobservant... Bruce…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not your fault, Clark, and they’re going to be okay.” Leslie said, working quickly to thread a needle with a thick cord. Before she started to sew she injected something into Bruce’s arm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He either took his blood or injected something in him,” she said, pointing to the point at which Luthor’s syringe pierced his skin. "That would explain how he knew. I'm giving him some propofol. It’s safe for the baby in small doses and should keep him unconscious for long enough that I can stitch him up. If he wakes up in the middle of this he'll be in so much pain, so I have to be fast." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She began to stitch Bruce's wound. Fortunately, the blade had been sharp enough that it was a relatively clean cut, but it was very deep. Once she had stitched his muscle tissue together, layer by layer, she was able to stitch the wound closed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before she spoke, she returned the stethoscope to Bruce's abdomen, and just to be sure, ran an ultrasound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He needs time, Clark, to heal, but they’re both okay. The baby's heartbeat has returned to a more normal pace. There is no damage to the uterus. I'm going to keep the solar light on Bruce, although we should cover him. He is running a fever, obviously given his state, and that’s not good for either of them." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The sedative should wear off in a few minutes. He’s going to be in pain, so you need to be there for him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You saved him, Clark. You saved them both. A minute more and I don't even want to think about the damage Luthor could have done. They're both alive."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark couldn't help the tears that slid down his face. Leslie and Barry silently took their leave, giving Clark a bit of much needed privacy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He saved himself. He somehow got himself out of there and up to the top of the tower. He called for me. I'm so sorry, Bruce," he whispered through tears. "I should have tried harder to stop you from going in the first place but I didn't and now…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He moved to Bruce's side and laid his head against his chest, looking up at his pale, sweaty face. He lay there for a long time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What if you had died?" He whispered. "Or if we lost our baby?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned his head to look toward Bruce's abdomen. More tears slid down his face as his gaze traveled over the gauze. At first, he thought it was just the packing, but the more he looked, the more obvious it became. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>a small bump, right below where Luthor had cut. It was barely noticeable from any other angle, but with his head on Bruce's chest Clark could not deny that he was starting to show. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More tears flowed from his eyes, and he turned his head back toward Bruce' face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Beautiful," he whispered. "You’re so beautiful. I love you so much."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laid on Bruce's chest until Bruce’s eyes began to flutter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark's stomach flipped when he heard Bruce groan and watched as his partner's hand instinctively reached for his stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The baby...is..he.." he stuttered through the pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're both fine," Clark said, clutching desperately to Bruce's hand. "I'm so sorry, Bruce… I'm so sorry I was…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce coughed gently, wincing at the movement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He got the best of me… I was distracted… by Joker… he cut me… with Kryptonite.. he knows…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark kissed his knuckles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know, love," he said gently. "I'm sorry I…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stop," Bruce said. "It's not your fault."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Or yours," Leslie said, walking into the room. "That was quite the scare we had there, but the baby looks good and healthy. Definitely half Clark though, weakened by Kryptonite and healed by solar energy. He's going to be much like his father one day."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Our son," Bruce said, rubbing his gauzed abdomen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're showing, did you notice?" Leslie said. "You have the tiniest little bump. Totally normal for just over four months along. You're going to start noticing it grow very quickly from now on. If you're showing now, you're likely going to get pretty big."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled at Bruce, who was wearing a very grumpy look; though, Clark couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t just from the pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're beautiful, and you'll be even more beautiful when you're at term."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce’s eyes softened slightly, then closed slowly. He sighed deeply and winced, to which Clark responded with a gentle kiss to his forehead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rest, love,” he reassured. “I’m staying right here.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There are several benefits to the second trimester.</p><p>(Short and sweet. Fluff and smut.)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>At 21 weeks, while Bruce was working in the cave and muttering to himself, he felt the baby move for the first time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was subtle, but it made Bruce jump and immediately press a hand to his stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he said, hardly a whisper. “What was that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He barely even had the chance to process what he had felt before Clark was behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” he asked, concern creasing his brow. “Is something wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce looked up at his boyfriend, too overwhelmed by the tiny movement to be frustrated with his over-protectiveness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s good…” he half-whispered, now slowly caressing the scar left by Luthor’s blade. “It’s...great, actually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s shoulders sagged, and he dropped to one knee in front of his chair. His hand found Bruce’s knee, and normally Bruce would have joined their hands together. He couldn’t take them off of his bump, though, both of them now pressing against his slightly taut skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s...he’s kicking me,” Bruce said. “At least I think he is. I’m certain he at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>moved</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even if it wasn’t a full on kick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you serious?” Clark said, his face lighting up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bruce responded. “I was just working away and suddenly, out of the blue, I felt it. It was like...well, it’s not like anything I’ve ever felt before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled lightly and gently squeezed Bruce’s knee. Moments later, Bruce’s eyes widened and he quickly moved Clark’s hand to his abdomen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Feel it?” he asked, excitedly. Clark looked away for a moment, seemingly concentrating on feeling the movement. His eyes, too, widened suddenly, and he smiled more brightly at Bruce.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do,” he said. “I feel him, Bruce. This is amazing. You’re so amazing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be feeling that a lot more often now,” Leslie said, smiling over at the ultrasound screen. “And the achiness will likely continue to worsen as well, but will hopefully appear more sporadically. Your body is adjusting to the extra weight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Halfway through his 23rd week, Leslie decided she had better check in with the two of them in person again. She wanted to check in on Bruce’s health, and of course, the progress of the baby.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“21 weeks is a pretty standard time frame to feel the movement of a human baby,” she continued. “And aches and pains are perfectly normal here as well. All signs seem to be pointing to a relatively standard gestation period. He’s definitely growing, but not at an alarming rate. I feel optimistic that we’ll be able to relatively accurately predict the next stages of your pregnancy, Bruce, which is a good thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes it is,” Bruce said, smiling at her. “He’s healthy, right? Everything looks okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything looks perfect.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled too, marveling at Leslie’s patience. The entire appointment had consisted of Leslie feeding them valuable information about the baby’s health and development, just for Bruce to respond by asking her </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span> if he was okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Leslie,” Clark said, on behalf of both of them. “I’m not sure where we’d be without you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s my pleasure. I will continue to check-in weekly, and we’ll meet again at 28 weeks. Unless there’s a new development and we have to move it closer, but I think that’s a good place to start.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good to me,” Clark nodded, helping Bruce sit up. “Bruce?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you think is best, Leslie, as long as the baby is healthy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark met Leslie’s gaze, and they both gave a smile eye roll. Bruce didn’t see either of them; he was too busy pulling off the gown and slipping back into his over sized shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His bump, though still not huge, was definitely visible at this point. Leslie had told them that their son was approximately the size of a grapefruit. Clark had laughed. A grapefruit wasn’t that big, but considering the impeccable definition of Bruce’s abs coupled with his naturally slender form, even a grapefruit protruded significantly from the rest of his muscles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce had started insisting on wearing Clark’s t-shirts and sweaters since the beginning, before he was even showing. It was something he liked to do anyway, but having an excuse meant that he could steal them without Clark questioning him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It amused Clark, however, that he never found any of his flannels missing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even while pregnant and secluded in his mansion, Bruce Wayne had </span>
  <em>
    <span>taste</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And self-respect,” Bruce had joked one day when Clark brought it up. They were standing in their bedroom, sorting through some new ‘maternity’ clothes that Alfred had procured for him. “Besides, my body temperature has been fluctuating like crazy lately. I’m either super cold, and in need of my boyfriend’s big comfy sweaters, or super hot; and then it’s lucky I’m even wearing a shirt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t wear any clothes at all,” Clark smirked, walking toward Bruce and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He wasn’t used to the feeling of Bruce’s stomach pressing into his own, so he still smiled each time it happened. A gentle reminder of the life that Bruce was growing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A life that was half him, and half the man he loved more than anything in the world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m so happy, Bruce,” he said. “I’m so lucky to be in love with you.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce blushed and pressed a kiss to Clark’s lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know,” he said, lowly, moving his mouth towards Clark’s ear. “My hormones are going a little crazy right now, which means that I’m feeling pretty </span>
  <em>
    <span>frisky</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark tried not to snort at Bruce’s in-eloquent choice of words, but it didn’t entirely work. Bruce heard him, pulled back, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pouted</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Clark muttered. “I just...Batman just used the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>frisky</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce glowered at him, then slowly reached down to the zipper of Clark’s pants. He very slowly began to pull at it, brushing his knuckles slowly against the thin fabric of his underwear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, Clark found himself trying to suppress a moan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I wasn’t so damn horny,” Bruce said. “I’d be very hurt that you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>mocking </span>
  </em>
  <span>me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finished pulling down the zipper, undid the button, and reached down into Clark’s pants, gently cupping his balls and squeezing ever so gently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s breath hitched, and he met Bruce’s eyes. He was staring straight at him as he said:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I honestly just can’t stop thinking about that cock of yours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark felt blood rushing toward Bruce’s fingertips. Bruce was succeeding in seducing him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In my mouth,” Bruce said, licking his lips gently without breaking eye contact. “And in my ass too. I want you to fuck my throat, and then to fuck me too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark made a desperate noise in his throat, then pushed Bruce backwards toward the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce smirked, and began tugging Clark’s pants off of his hips. When he was just in his t-shirt and underwear, Clark reciprocated, stripping Bruce of </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of his clothes in record time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s really not fair,” Bruce said, pouting at Clark again. Clark was too busy staring at Bruce’s naked form.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful,” he whispered. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce blushed again, then pressed their bodies flush again as he captured Clark’s mouth in his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They grinded for a few minutes, until both of them were fully erect and incredibly desperate for more solid stimulation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stand up,” Bruce commanded, pointing to the side of the bed. He rolled over so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, then he dropped to his knees in front of Clark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How many people would kill to have Batman on his knees for them?” Bruce practically growled. “Only for you. All yours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark gasped as Bruce wrapped his hot mouth around his cock. He could feel Bruce’s hands on his ass, putting just enough pressure on him to generate a gentle rocking motion. Before long, Clark didn’t need Bruce’s guidance as he fucked his boyfriend’s mouth hungrily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God Bruce, you’re so fucking hot,” he moaned. “So perfect.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce pulled away from Clark’s cock moments later, rising to his feet and crawling onto the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked seductively over his shoulder, and was delighted to see that Clark was already debauched. Without looking away, he squirted some lube onto his own fingers and began to open himself up. Clark was watching, obviously incredibly turned on, but Bruce shook his head the moment he tried to touch himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck me, Clark,” he said. “I can take it. I want you inside of me as soon as possible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark needed no more encouragement. He stepped forward and sank onto his knees on the bed, lining his cock up to Bruce’s tight hole. He eased into him at first, relishing in the heat and friction between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce quickly grew impatient however, and started to rock back into Clark. To save him the exertion, Clark met his pace until he was the only one moving. Bruce was bent forward, taking Clark’s cock with growing moans of pleasure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” he muttered. “You’re so fucking big. Feels so fucking good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark could feel himself unraveling quickly, and was almost grateful when he suddenly felt Bruce clench around his cock, yelling out as he came all over the sheets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was sent hurtling over the edge then, fucking desperately into the moaning mess that was his boyfriend. He was alarmed, though, that he felt Bruce clenching again as Clark spilled inside of him, another orgasm clearly wracking his partner’s body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was whimpering by the time it was over, a thick splattering of cum now coating the base of his baby bump as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark pulled out slowly, just in time for Bruce to collapse against the mattress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy fuck,” he breathed into the sheets. “Jesus Christ, that was good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you…” Clark started.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmhmm,” Bruce nodded. “Don’t know how. Never been that close before, but it just kept coming.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smirked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think it’s a pregnancy thing? Or am I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> good?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce rolled his eyes, then smiled softly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Both,” he said. Then he reached his arms up to Clark, who was just about to sink down onto the bed next to him. “No, I need a shower first.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled and, seizing the rare opportunity to carry Batman, scooped his boyfriend into his arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Clark said softly. “But then we’re going to cuddle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t think of anything I’d want more.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Can we not just send Alfred?” Bruce huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and not-so-subtly resting them on his bump.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over the last 6 weeks, Bruce’s bump had grown </span>
  <em>
    <span>significantly</span>
  </em>
  <span> in size, to the point where even Clark’s oversize t-shirts and sweaters were too small for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was concerned. Leslie had </span>
  <em>
    <span>said</span>
  </em>
  <span> everything was fine at their last appointment, but his stomach had almost doubled in half the time it took for him to even grow a bump in the first place. They had an appointment with her that afternoon, but Clark had insisted that they first venture over to Star City to go to the Maternity/Paternity store. They needed to try and find some basic t-shirts and sweaters that would fit around Bruce's expanding middle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was not very happy about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> shopping,” he grumbled, standing stubbornly still in the middle of the store as Clark flicked through a rack of basic shirts. “I didn’t do it before I got pregnant, why on Earth would you think I want to do it now? Nothing is going to fit. I’m going to look stupid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce,” Clark said, voice heavy with exasperation. “You were the one who said you needed clothes! We can leave right now if you want, but that means you have to keep wearing the flannels that you so </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperately</span>
  </em>
  <span> hate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce glared at Clark, pulling at the sleeves of the blue plaid </span>
  <em>
    <span>monstrosity</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was currently wearing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That didn’t mean I wanted to go shopping,” he mumbled. “I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> shopping. Especially so far away from Gotham.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Language, Bruce,” Clark shook his head. “And hush. It was less than an hour in the plane. And besides, this is the only place that has clothes for carriers. Just...just try these on. If they fit, we can go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shoved a thick stack of shirts into Bruce’s arms. Bruce said nothing, just gave him a vicious look and spun on his heel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark watched his boyfriend wander toward the back of the store, then made his way up to the register.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi there,” Clark said politely to the woman behind the counter. “My boyfriend is in the back trying on some shirts. He’s a carrier, and I think he’s too frustrated with me to listen to any of my help...Would you be able to go back and see how he’s doing? Just maybe help him figure out what he needs for the rest of his pregnancy? He’s 27 weeks along, and honestly we have no idea what to expect from here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark half expected her to call him crazy, or at least politely decline, but instead she smiled warmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carriers are often the most self-conscious,” she smiled. “I’ll check in on him. You can come too though. Often it’s reassuring for our clients to hear their partners compliment them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not so sure that will work with Bruce,” Clark chuckled. “But I’ll come with you anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was sitting on a surprisingly comfy couch, staring at a closed door. He wanted so badly to listen closer to the murmuring on the other side of the door, but he didn’t want to breach Bruce’s privacy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled hopefully when the door finally opened, but it was the clerk who came out. Bruce stayed inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to grab the band,” she whispered to Clark, returning his smile. “He’s found a few things, but we have to add some weight so we can see what will fit near the end.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded, pretending to know what the hell this woman was talking about. He took a moment to listen in to Bruce, now that he was by himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I miss wearing Clark’s tees,” he heard Bruce mumble. “They were so much comfier than this fucking shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled softly and sympathetically. He knew Bruce had liked wearing his clothes. He had temporarily felt so bad for him the day he noticed he couldn’t anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bruce walked into the lounge, the shirt he was wearing pulled up almost to his belly button. The scar on his abdomen was visible, and Clark had to suppress a giggle at his adorable appearance.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Clark,” Bruce said quietly. “Clark your t-shirts...they don’t fit anymore.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At that, Clark </span>
  </em>
  <span>had</span>
  <em>
    <span> chuckled, Bruce’s pouty face almost too sweet for him to handle. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Until, at the sound of his laughter, Bruce’s eyes had begun to water. He watched, slightly horrified, as Bruce brought the heels of his hands up to his face and </span>
  </em>
  <span>sobbed</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” Clark had said, standing immediately and rushing toward his boyfriend. “No, Bruce, baby. Don’t cry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you. You’re beautiful, baby.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know,” Bruce said, much to Clark’s confusion.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But… but now I’m going to </span>
  </em>
  <span>have</span>
  <em>
    <span> to wear your flannels.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled recalling his boyfriend’s emotional sass. Since that day, he had been wrestling with Bruce, trying to get him to fly out to Star City to just buy some more damn clothes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce had actively refused, but Clark had drawn the line the night before when the idea of wearing one of Clark’s flannels to Leslie’s was too much for Bruce to bear and he had pouted for over 2 hours.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman returned to the change room, slipping inside with a thick bundle of material in her hands. It must have been the band she had mentioned, but Clark had no idea what it was until a few minutes later when Bruce </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> came out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was wearing a fitted black shirt that made Clark’s jaw drop. It accentuated the muscles in his arms and chest, and when Bruce turned toward the mirror, Clark could see the outline of his back muscles as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> caught Clark’s eye, however, was the bigger bump that Bruce was boasting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a maternity band,” Bruce explained. “But it’s got padding in it to simulate the later stages of my pregnancy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark wasn’t even sure what to say, but Bruce was looking at him expectantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This one is designed to simulate the approximate size of Bruce’s bump when he is in his final trimester, or 7-9 months along. That’s not all that far in the future, so Bruce figured that while he was here, he should get clothes for that stage as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now both Bruce and the clerk were watching him, waiting for a response. All Clark could do was blush.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clark,” Bruce sighed eventually. “Are you okay?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark cleared his throat, blushed a little harder, then managed to stutter: “You look...</span>
  <em>
    <span>really great</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The clerk giggled to herself, then stepped toward the main area of the store.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ll let Clark help you with the rest, Bruce,” she smiled. “Let me know when you’re finished and I can take back the belly band.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce thanked her, then stepped toward Clark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really think it looks good?” He said, almost shyly. “I don’t think it looks too bad, myself, but I just thought maybe my judgement was clouded by my complete adoration of our little growing boy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Clark said, his head a little clearer now that he and Bruce were alone. “Rao, Bruce, you look </span>
  <em>
    <span>sexy as fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce blushed this time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Julia, the clerk who was helping me, said that I look like I’m 'ready to pop' already,” Bruce said. “Is my stomach really that big?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark bit his lip, unsure of what to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not exactly an expert in pregnancy, Bruce,” Clark said. “But when we first noticed the change in size I did some looking. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> look quite a bit larger than the pictures I saw.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce frowned, turning back toward the mirror and wrapping his arms protectively around his stomach. Clark stood and walked to him, wrapping his arms around Bruce from behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re still </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeous</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and you will be even if you actually get this big,” Clark smiled into Bruce’s neck. “Leslie will take a look this afternoon, and she’ll make sure everything is okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded and smiled in appreciation, then made his way back to the change room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They left the store around half an hour later, Bruce now armed with a complete wardrobe to last him hopefully until the birth of their son. Alfred was waiting for them when Clark pulled the car up to the strip. They boarded the plane and headed back to Gotham.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He does look quite a bit bigger, Bruce,” Leslie was frowning while staring intently at the screen. “But not enough to necessarily cause this much growth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had jumped right into the appointment, instructing Bruce to strip and squeezing the cold gel onto his abdomen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was staring as well, and Bruce was as emotional as he was the time before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then why have</span>
  <em>
    <span> I</span>
  </em>
  <span> grown so much?” he was asking, feverishly. “Is he okay? Is there like a tumor or something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie chuckled to herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He still looks great to me,” she nodded, pressing the wand a little more firmly against the side of his stomach. “He has shifted position a little, and I’m really trying to look for any abnormalities but there seems to be none; well, at least from what I can actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was looking up at her, worry etched all over his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes this happens, Bruce,” she said. “This might just be a potentially shortened gestation period making its appearance later in the pregnancy. Like I mentioned in the first appointment too, your uterus is a little farther back in your pelvis, so it’s hard to see the three sides we are usually able to view on a woman. And that’s okay, because like I said, he looks okay. Do either of you have any other way to research a little more into Kryptonian pregnancies? If you could find any supplementary material, it would be beneficial.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce’s hand practically flew to Clark’s. Leslie chuckled again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce,” she said. “There is nothing to worry about right now. He looks healthy. I just want to see if there is another logical explanation before anything happens and I have to perform any invasive examinations. Not that I think anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>happen, but it’s nice to be sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm honestly thinking this might have something to do with this little guy’s biology.  I’m not worried, especially because Bruce is male which means that his physiology is a little different to begin with, like I already said, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to check anyway, just in case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark spoke up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have the fortress. I can pay it a visit, see if its databases have any information I may have missed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d appreciate that, Clark,” Leslie smiled. “Let me know if you find anything, or, Bruce, if your bump continues to grow at an alarming pace, and I’ll look into it further.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you Leslie,” Clark said, helping Bruce sit up and handing him the black shirt from earlier that morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My pleasure,” she smiled again. “Keep me posted, boys.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark, Bruce, and Alfred flew out to the fortress that evening. Clark had initially tried to insist that Bruce simply rest, backed up by Alfred, but Bruce was having none of it. He settled himself down in front of the monitor that displayed the digital archive of Krypton’s data, while Clark began to wander through the fortresses many rooms, hoping to stumble upon some sort of Kryptonian history book stored somewhere in the old ship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were doubtful, but they tried anyway. </span>
  <em>
    <span>For hours</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred had busied himself, tidying Clark and Bruce’s personal quarters, but had finished by the time Clark and Bruce reconvened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I got nothing,” Clark said. “Not a single volume of any sort in any of these rooms, just like before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I only found a single file that contained any information on Kryptonian fetuses, but it was in reference to the codex. Apparently it’s common for codex generated cells to split.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Clark nodded. “I think I found that the first time around. But it’s not really relevant to you. You’re not using the codex, and you’re not having twins.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly,” Bruce sighed. His hand fell naturally to his bump. Since their son had begun kicking him, he habitually rested there, rubbing soothing circles into the taut skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll talk to Leslie again, Bruce. She said that it’s nothing to worry about as far as she knows. You’re a special case in multiple ways, B, which means she’s working with a lot of unknowns. She might not have the answer to this, but that doesn’t mean that something is wrong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce kept rubbing circles into his bump, staring at the floor and nodding at Clark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m almost seven months along now, Clark,” Bruce said quietly. “If what Leslie said is true, and this is a sign that the gestation period is shorter than a normal human…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark kneeled in front of Bruce.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re not ready, Clark,” he said, quietly. “We have nothing ready. No nursery. No clothes. No nothing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred cleared his throat from behind Clark, who blushed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve started in the nursery,” he said. “I’ve been working on it for a while now. Alfred’s been helping me get some things together and set it up. I didn’t tell you though, because I really want it to be a surprise. You can’t see it until it’s done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce said nothing, but held his arms up and out. Clark rose and wrapped himself around Bruce.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Clark,” he murmured into his shoulder. “I’m sure whatever you’re doing, planning, it’s going to be beautiful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled into him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s where I’ve been disappearing, although I imagine you haven’t really noticed. Even though you aren’t patrolling anymore, you still spend a hell of a lot of time in the cave.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t noticed, and I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Clark shook his head. “It’s been kind of perfect actually. You’re kind of...snoopy. So your distraction has made this easier, <em>darling</em>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce snorted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, <em>dear</em>,” he said, mockingly. “Now, can we go home? It’s cold here, and I don’t have my body pillow so I won’t sleep if we stay here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark chuckled and pulled Bruce up out of the chair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose we can,” he said. “Alfred?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The butler gestured toward the tunnel that led them outside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After you.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clark chats with Perry about his circumstances, Bruce discovers a nasty side effect of having a Kryptonian baby, and one of our boys makes a big decision!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Honestly, I don't even know what storyline this is drawing from anymore, and I don't really care lmao</p><p>I kind of just pull from canon in different mediums and timelines so that it works together. And I'm really back and forth on this work and have no beta, so hopefully there aren't any discrepancies.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The following day, Clark woke up fairly early. He checked his email first thing, hoping to have received a response from Perry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce had somehow managed to convince Clark’s boss to give him some time away from the office, offering instead to have Clark write fluff pieces from the manor. He was sure that Bruce’s ownership of the company would only get him so far however, and so was unsurprised to see that Perry </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>responded to his inquiry, and he did not receive the answer he was hoping for:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kent,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have been nothing but patient and gracious with you and with Mr. Wayne, and while yes, I understand that there are extenuating circumstances at play here (though I still can’t understand why these circumstances can’t be disclosed to me), and while I do acknowledge that Mr. Wayne is the owner of the company, I must insist that you begin to return to the office as soon as possible. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pulitzer’s don’t write themselves, not to mention that I have, in the last few weeks, remembered why Lombard strictly writes for the Sports Column.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope to see you on Monday, but expect you by Wednesday next week at the latest. When you are here in person, perhaps you’ll feel more willing to disclose your situation, and we will proceed from there. Next to Lane, you are my best, and I’d rather not be forced to fire you. I don’t say that lightly, Kent.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keep that in mind.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Perry White</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Editor-in-Chief</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Daily Planet</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark sighed. Of course Perry </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been gracious. Bruce had purchased the Planet years ago, before newspapers became nearly obsolete </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> before Clark had started working there. Bruce had kicked himself near the beginning of his pregnancy, realizing there was a clause in the contract that indicated Bruce had </span>
  <em>
    <span>no jurisdiction</span>
  </em>
  <span> when it came to hiring/firing practices.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the time, that had seemed fair, considering that Bruce really just wanted to be able to control what was published about Batman in his neighboring city--he hadn’t really given a damn about who was writing what, as long as it was all within his parameters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as he watched his boyfriend button up his shirt from the bed, arms crossed and fuming behind his protruding bump, Bruce was cursing his own idiocy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s hardly idiocy, Bruce,” Clark was saying gently, in response to Bruce’s whispered cusses. “You didn’t know that </span>
  <em>
    <span>the love of your life</span>
  </em>
  <span> would eventually be working there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce snorted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back before you know it; but, if I’m going back to work, I’ll have to work in the nursery in the evenings now. So, no brooding in the cave during the day if that means you’ll be bored after supper, okay? Or I’ll have to ask Alfred to distract you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His boyfriend snorted again, and Clark pecked his forehead. He packed his bag and went to leave, but stopped at the door to look back on his partner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you Bruce Wayne,” he said, sweetly. “You call me if </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> goes wrong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded and blew Clark an overly corny kiss. When Clark pretended to catch it and press it to his own lips, Bruce snorted for the third time and threw the covers over his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Smallville!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lois approached him as soon as he was at his desk, before he even had the chance to sit down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Lo,” he said, smiling softly. “Nice to see you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You too!” she said, brightly. “Perry’s been a tyrant the last few days. I’m so glad you’re back, even if it's just temporary. I think this is the closest he’s ever been to killing Lombard, and that’s saying something. You know how he is with that guy even on his best days.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark chuckled and lowered into his seat, pulling his chair up to his desk and opening his laptop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s apparently got an assignment for you, already,” she said, stepping right up beside him now. “Says if you don’t do it justice he’ll have your head. Although, that might have just been for show. He’s been worried.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark glanced over at Perry’s office, just as his boss stepped through the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kent!” He called, then gestured to the room behind the frosted glass. “My office, now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oof,” Lois laughed. “I swear he’s worried, even if it doesn’t really sound like it. Good luck, Smallville.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark flashed her a grin before making his way over to Perry’s office.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t disclosed to anyone at the Planet what was happening in his personal life, save for Lois, and even she didn’t know the whole story. Clark had told her that he and Bruce were having a child, with Bruce’s permission, however he had chosen to refrain from giving details. Lois assumed they were using a surrogate, and Clark had never bothered to correct her. That was what Bruce had wanted. If it got out that Bruce Wayne had taken in a child, well, that wouldn’t be too surprising given his soft heart. If it got out that he was pregnant, however, that would have been a different story.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone in the office was looking at Clark as he made his way toward Perry. They likely assumed that Clark had asked for vacation days or something, and figured he was in Perry’s bad books. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regardless of the fact that he sort of had an excuse, Clark himself was still kind of surprised to find that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kent,” Perry said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk and sitting in his own. “Clark.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His tone had softened and he rubbed at his chin. Clark folded his hands in his lap, suddenly feeling guilty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. White,” he said. “I…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know I’m a bit of a hardass,” Perry cut in.  “But I like to think of myself as a reasonable man. A decently compassionate man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are, sir,” Clark said. “I’m incredibly grateful for-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to think that I’m an </span>
  <em>
    <span>approachable </span>
  </em>
  <span>man, as well. One who, when his employees, say, need a leave of absence, can be kept in the loop as to the reason behind it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark looked down at his lap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on, Clark?” Perry asked. “You’ve never missed a day before, and now suddenly I’ve got </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bruce freaking Wayne</span>
  </em>
  <span> calling me up and demanding you get time off? Since when do you even know the guy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark swallowed thickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kent, are you in some kind of trouble?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Clark said, firmly with the slightest hint of caution. He thought back to the conversation he and Bruce had had about what to tell Perry. He took a deep breath, and told the truth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, partially. The truth according to Lois.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce and I have actually been very good friends for some time now, Mr. White, and just under two years ago, we realized that we were actually much more than that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark swallowed thickly. If he was being honest, he was kind of worried that Perry would be homophobic; he knew the man was quite traditional, but also had watched him grow accustomed to the idea of metahumans with relative ease. Perry laced his fingers together and nodded encouragingly at Clark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Given the public nature of his career as well as my position as a member of the press, we decided that our relationship would function better if we kept it a secret. That way, Bruce would not garner any unwanted attention, and I would not be…” he cleared his throat “...exploited for my </span>
  <em>
    <span>insider</span>
  </em>
  <span> status.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You thought that I would…” Perry started, but Clark shook his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not you, sir. Uh...Cat. Cat Grant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Perry chuckled. “That is… that is a logical assumption.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark relaxed visibly at Perry’s supposed ease. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So why does your romantic attachment to Mr. Wayne affect whether or not you can come into work? Don’t want to commute?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark snorted, much to Perry’s confusion, but he quickly recovered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, sir,” he said. “Nothing like that. Actually, I’m sure you’ve noticed that Bruce has been out of the public eye recently.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perry nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For our privacy, I ask that you keep what I’m about to tell you to yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perry nodded again, his brow creasing in concern.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you’re aware, Bruce’s biological family is not in the picture anymore. His parents-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Were murdered,” Perry said, quietly. “Yes, I am aware.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With my family tied to the farm in Kansas, Bruce and I are pretty much on our own, which is difficult given recent events. His butler, Alfred, has been with the family for a long time, and while he is still very important to Bruce, he cannot be expected to be incredibly productive in preparing for the arrival of our baby.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perry’s eyes widened. Clark cleared his throat. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it still felt uncomfortable withholding the truth. Clark apparently lived up to his nickname.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In a few weeks, probably, we don’t know the exact day yet,” he continued. “Bruce and I will be bringing home a little boy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perry suddenly broke out into a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I understand, Kent,” Perry said. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but my wife, Alice, and I actually adopted a child of our own. His name is Keith, and he is the best thing that has happened to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations, Kent,” he continued. “Fatherhood...it’s something else. It’s...everything. Surreal. I still sometimes can’t believe how lucky Alice and I were to have met him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t even met him yet, and I already feel like it’s surreal,” Clark laughed. “I’m kind of terrified. And so is Bruce. I think it’s especially hard for him, not having his parents around for this, hence why he wants me around so much. Especially now that we’re so close to getting him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I understand,” Perry nodded. “And I have a proposition.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Work from Gotham. From Wayne Manor. I will temporarily transfer your position to the Gotham branch of the Planet. From there you will receive your assignments. There are more fluff pieces to be written in Gotham than there are here. Lane and Olsen can tag-team your assignments. I already spoke with them about it; Lois is thrilled that you won’t be stealing her Pulitzer, and Olsen is as eager as any Jr. Reporter would be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark sighed, and set his head in his hands. He was genuinely relieved. As easy as it was to fly from the Planet back to the manor, Clark was genuinely concerned that Bruce wouldn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell him</span>
  </em>
  <span> if he was in labor if he wasn’t at home to witness it himself. Knowing that he could scrape together some Gotham fluff pieces and keep his job for after the birth of their son made Clark feel a hell of a lot more confident heading toward Bruce’s non-existent due date.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mr. White,” Clark breathed. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get out, now, Kent,” Perry barked, with a smile. “Clear your desk. Olsen’s moving in this afternoon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled and nodded at his boss. He stood, and was about to leave the room when Perry caught his attention again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and Clark?” he said, nothing but genuinity in his eyes. ”Good luck. You’ll be a great father.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s eyes were sparkling as he made his way back toward Lois. Jimmy was standing with her, and Clark felt the urge to hug them both in thanks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Master Kent!” Alfred called as soon as the front door had clicked shut. “You’re home early, and I am very grateful. You must come upstairs at once!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s stomach leapt into his throat, and he darted to where Alfred was standing at the bottom of the stairs. They ascended together, Alfred explaining the situation while they went.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He says he first noticed them while he was in the shower this morning. There were only a few then, but now…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door to the master bedroom swung open, and Clark saw that Bruce was sprawled out on the bed, his hand once again rubbing circles into his massive middle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark stepped toward him, suppressing a gasp when he saw what Alfred was talking about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bruises. Huge, dark, and swollen bruises</span>
  </em>
  <span>, completely covering Bruce’s stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t freak out, Clark,” Bruce said, slightly exasperated. “I’m fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce…” He stepped forward again, sinking down onto the edge of the bed and reaching toward his boyfriend, a sad look in his eyes. “Bruce, we promised to tell each other everything… why didn’t you call?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce recoiled, and Clark almost felt bad. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leslie said something like this could happen, Clark,” he said defensively. “I knew what I signed up for, and I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should have called me, B,” Clark said firmly. “I could have come home even sooner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no. You had to talk to Perry. What did he say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark relayed what he and Perry had discussed, but felt a lot less light about it when it was backdropped by Bruce’s bruises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I phoned Doctor Thompson, as well,” Alfred interjected from the door. “She says she is unsurprised that young Master’s kicks have become this strong, but would still like to speak with you, Master Clark.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded. He grabbed Bruce’s hand and squeezed before he stood up and turned toward the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call right now, then,” he said. “Did she say she’s in the clinic today?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She is usually in on Mondays,” Bruce said. “But, Clark?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned back, and listened as Alfred’s footsteps made their way down the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I just...I know how you feel when he hurts me. I don’t want you to blame yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not angry, Bruce,” he said. “But I want you to lean on me for this. You’ve been doing as much of this baby-growing thing as possible </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You can hurt. You can ask for back rubs and foot massages as much as you ask for pie and peanut butter sandwiches in the middle of the night. You can complain. You can be tired and take naps and ask me to help you shower. I’m here for you, and I want to help you bring him into the world.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Bruce practically whispered. “You will. I promise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s phone call with Leslie was relatively short. They decided to schedule an appointment with her for the end of the following week, just to check up. Leslie asked Clark if they had been measuring Bruce’s stomach, as she had mentioned at their last appointment. Clark confirmed that they had, and relayed a few of the measurements.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie simply recommended they continue doing what they were doing until they met again, and told Clark to let her know if anything changed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark had asked again about the pain medication, regardless of Bruce’s insistence that he’d be fine without it. He was disheartened to hear her answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Clark,” she said, sympathetically. “I know you don’t want to watch him in pain, especially someone as stubborn as Bruce Wayne. But because I can’t seem to get a clear picture of the baby, I don’t really know what to expect. I don’t know how he’ll be affected. It could be detrimental to Bruce as well as your son.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I understand,” Clark said. “I’m just worried he won’t lean on me. That he’ll try to do it all alone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He heard Leslie’s smile when she spoke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Believe me, Clark. He’ll lean on you. He likes to put up that stony façade, but you and I both know that Bruce Wayne, at heart, is a big ole’ softy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark busied himself in the nursery for the rest of the week. Bruce was bored the first day that he and Alfred locked themselves away, but that boredom didn’t last. Clark and Alfred both mused as Bruce mucked about the house, cleaning and baby proofing rooms they hadn’t used in years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re nesting, Bruce,” Clark said, his voice positively dripping with fondness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce practically spat at that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m just preparing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred smiled at that as he collected the dishes and made his way to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s exactly what your mother said, when she was very close to delivering you. ‘I’m not nesting, Thomas, I’m just ensuring that nothing will hurt our little baby boy. Everything has to be ready.’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark and Bruce both smiled, but Bruce’s face quickly softened into a blank sort of sadness. Clark noticed immediately, and reached for Bruce’s hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wish they could meet him,” Bruce said, quietly. “I’ve been trying not to think about it, to be honest, but I think they’d be proud.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t imagine that they wouldn’t be,” Clark returned, squeezing gently. “Now, I have to run over to the Planet in Metropolis this afternoon. I guess Perry needs me to sign some transfer papers. Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise</span>
  </em>
  <span> that you will call me if something happens? Anything at all!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve yet to baby proof the cave,” Bruce said. “I was planning on heading down there anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark shook his head, chuckling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How in the hell do you expect to baby proof Batarangs?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce used one hand to support his back while the other pushed him out of his chair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will find a way,” he responded. “Fly safe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> go to Metropolis, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did not</span>
  </em>
  <span> go to the Daily Planet. Instead, he found himself standing in front of a large glass case at </span>
  <em>
    <span>Spiffany’s.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How can I help you today, sir?” A young man behind the counter asked. Clark pushed up his glasses and looked around him. He felt really out of place here; the jewelry store around the corner from the Planet had been there since Clark started, but he hadn’t really anticipated ever having reason to enter it. He also had never anticipated having the money to enter it, but here he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to look at engagement bands,” he said, smiling politely at the clerk. “I want to propose to my boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just under an hour later, Clark left the shop with a small bag in hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt giddy as he made his way up the street, a block away from the Planet. Thinking about the nursery and the ring he had just purchased for Bruce made him feel sort of light headed, in a bubbly and excited way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was in the usual alley he’d duck into to change and take off, about to do just that when his phone rang.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Bruce. He swallowed, concern mixing with his excitement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” Clark said, picking up immediately. “Is everything okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We need to go see Leslie today,” Bruce said. Clark’s stomach dropped at the desperation and fear that he could hear in his voice. “There’s blood, Clark.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm sorry :( </p><p>(actually I'm not at all, I love me a good melodramatic cliff hanger)</p><p>As always, your comments are greatly appreciated. I read all of them, and it awes me that some of you have read and commented on all or almost all of my work. I'm so thankful.</p><p>Thanks for stopping by!</p><p>Laynee</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, I'm sorry. I know a lot of you have really been enjoying the fluff of this story, and I hope I didn't ruin it by throwing in some angst. I just can't resist. I love me some angst.</p><p>But here is the next chapter, it's short, but hopefully will make you all feel better.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You aren’t in labor or anything, Bruce,” Leslie said gently. “What you experienced is gruesomely called ‘the bloody show.’ It’s perfectly normal, but given the timing, I think the next time I see you will be the big day. It's clearly coming sooner than we thought.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was smiling at Bruce as she once again squirted the cold gel onto his stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can see that he’s continued to grow, but not quite as alarmingly fast as he was for those few weeks. And you’re sitting fairly low, now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was right. Bruce and Clark had been measuring the growth of his abdomen very precisely since the bruising began, calling Leslie everyday with an update on the measurements. It had become a sort of morning ritual for them; they’d shower together so that Clark could help Bruce reach everything he couldn’t anymore, then Bruce would collapse on the bed so that Clark could measure his stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had grown increasingly difficult for Clark </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to use his x-ray vision on the baby. Leslie had commented that she hadn’t been able to see Bruce’s entire womb in the last ultrasound, and it was distressing to Clark that he couldn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like Bruce had voiced near the beginning of his pregnancy, though, they didn’t know exactly how Clark’s x-ray vision worked, and didn’t want to risk exposing the baby to any harmful radiation. So, Clark tried his best to simply place his trust in Leslie, and prayed to Rao that he was alright. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This had been especially hard when Bruce had started bleeding, though the presence of their son’s heartbeat had at least been a bit of a reassurance as they rushed over to the clinic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The final ultrasound yielded no more conclusive results about their son’s growth, however, much to Clark and Bruce’s frustration and dismay. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I still can’t seem to get an ideal picture here,” she muttered, pushing down with the wand firmly enough that Bruce winced. Clark glanced worriedly at him, but Bruce simply pursed his lips and looked away. “But we’ve been monitoring him; so good picture or not, we should be okay. Like I said, the growth has </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>slowed, and Bruce, you haven’t had any disconcerting symptoms at all save for the nasty bruises and the bit of blood?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Other than the bruises, which I can handle,” he glanced up at Clark briefly, then turned back to Leslie. “And then this morning...There’s been nothing that you hadn’t prepared me for.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Run through everything for me once,” Leslie said, nodding. “How have you been feeling lately?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark looked down at Bruce, as if reminding him to tell Leslie </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just tired mostly,” Bruce said, sighing at Clark’s insistence. “My back is pretty sore, and my chest is too, I guess. Sleeping sucks, but the body pillow helps. I’ve had cravings, but for fairly normal food. Just at strange times.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark snorted, recalling a flight he had made in the middle of the night to Bessalo’s. Usually </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clark</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one who craved apple pie, and he had never known anyone to eat so many peanut butter sandwiches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie smiled at them both as Bruce continued.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s been moving a lot lately, obviously, hence the bruises. But he also just feels heavy. My stomach is so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking heavy</span>
  </em>
  <span> for some reason. I’m honestly just mentally ready for him to get out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie chuckled, lowering the wand closer to the base of Bruce’s bump.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“By 32 weeks, most are at about that stage. That’s normal. Lucky for you, I think you might be physically ready too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s eyes widened a little as Leslie raised her hand and pointed at the screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s his head, Bruce,” she smiled. “He’s shifted down, did you notice how low your bump was?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce looked down, then up at Clark who was looking as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How did we not notice?” Clark asked. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> low, Bruce.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes it is,” Leslie said. “His head is just above your pelvis, which usually means he’s just about ready to go. That would also explain the heaviness. His weight is pulling down more in this position… are you okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce’s mouth was a thin line, his eyes watering slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe we’re having a baby,” he said, quietly. “I know I’ve had eight months to get used to that idea, but I don’t think I am, not yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get used to it quickly, Mr. Wayne,” Leslie joked. “I’d give you maybe a few more weeks <em>at most</em> until it’s show time, but it honestly could be days.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was a bundle of nerves leaving Leslie’s clinic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need to work on the nursery when we get home,” he said as he helped Bruce into the car. “Do you have something you can work on in the cave?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> just see it?” Bruce asked, pouting slightly with a hand on his stomach. “I can help you. I really can!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark scoffed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There is no way you are staying on your feet right now, not after this morning. Besides, you need a distraction that </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> barking directions at me while I paint.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>painting today?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bruce said, fondly. “Clark, it seems like you’re putting a lot of effort into this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I am, B,” he said. “This is for our baby boy. It has to be just right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaned over, and in a rare moment of intimacy, draped his own hand over the swell of Bruce’s stomach. As if on cue, the baby kicked Clark’s hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After he had winced, Bruce started giggling at Clark. He had clearly been taken aback by the movement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was strong,” he said. “Jeez, Bruce. No wonder you’re bruising.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> strong, just like his Daddy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce laid his head on Clark’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And, I suppose I could go over some league files, if you really wanted me to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Clark said, kissing his head. He thought of the ring box, still tucked away in his jacket. “I promise you’ll get to see the nursery soon. Just not until the time is right. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see you see it.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I probably messed up the whole pregnancy timeline; I tried my best to make it make sense, but I'm impatient, so their baby boy is going to come early!</p><p>I hope you guys still like the fic, even with the bits of angst.</p><p>Thanks for stopping by. As always, comments are immensely appreciated. </p><p>Much love.</p><p>Laynee</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clark goes on a mission, and Bruce tries to keep himself busy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bruce awoke with a start, a flash of pain gripping the underside of his swollen and bruised abdomen. He rolled over onto his back, the sheets pulling taut against his bump, cursing the burn that was rippling through him. The baby must have kicked him in his sleep. The residual muscle spasms rippling from his navel to his waist were a new symptom that had appeared since their chat with Leslie, apparently another unfortunate side effect of Clark’s genes. Bruce reached his arm to the side, turning his head and opening his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was not there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce sighed and listened to the noise in the manor. He tried to sit up, his large stomach preventing him from getting very far. Once he was up on his elbows, he looked at the clock. It was 7 in the morning, and he could hear Alfred bustling about downstairs. There had probably been an alarm; his butler had always been an early riser, and would have heard it. And hell, Clark could have been in Metropolis and still heard the cave notification come in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His little boy was clearly awake--he could feel and see tiny limbs pressing against the wall of his abdomen. Bruce rolled back onto his side, pushing himself to a full sitting position. He laid a hand on his stomach, pressing lightly in an attempt to comfort his squirming child, wincing at the pressure on his tender skin. He rose and headed for the shower, hoping that the warm water would soothe the baby, and his aching muscles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know how long he had been standing under the water when he felt another searing pain course through the base of his stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus,” he chuckled to himself, rubbing firm circles into the tight muscles. “Could you lay off of me for a little while? I’m used to you kicking, but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ache disappeared in less than a minute, and Bruce straightened up. He turned so that the hot water was cascading over his chest. He began to gently stroke the top of his bump, smiling fondly at the thought of how far they had come.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> care that he was being kicked and bruised; like he had told Clark, ever since they had discussed with Leslie what it would take to carry and birth their baby, Bruce had been prepared for any and all pain his body would endure. He knew it bothered Clark, but he could take it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t like he was a stranger to it. He had broken too many bones to count, worked through lacerations, burns, and deep bruises. Not to mention, he had been tortured and sliced open by Lex Luthor just a few months prior.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had very little time left anyway, as Leslie had told him. The baby was still sitting low, so it was likely only a matter of days before he and Clark would finally be able to meet their son. The more days that passed, the more nervous Bruce felt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t that worried about the pain. He felt confident he could handle giving birth. His primary concern was the parenthood that followed. He was going to be responsible for another life other than his own. He wouldn’t have the option to leave and go somewhere if he needed to, and he wouldn’t be able to put himself in danger without risking leaving his child orphaned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was an orphan and, though Alfred had raised him well, that was the last thing he wanted for his own child.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce shut the water off, stepping carefully out of the shower and wrapping in a towel. It was difficult to secure under his bump and he could barely reach any of his body parts below his stomach, so he resolved to air dry and headed back to the bedroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes, thinking about what it would be like once the baby had come. Clark had spent most of the last few days in the room next to theirs, finishing the nursery. Bruce knew it was painted, and discovered that Clark had ordered some furniture when it showed up at the front door, but Clark still hadn’t wanted Bruce to see any of it until it was finished.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce hated this idea. Clark was handy, that was for sure, but he was beginning to feel restless. Clark would not let him clean anymore, he couldn’t work out, and could barely get down to the Batcave anymore. Bruce had been spending an awful lot of time watching movies and playing GTA in the lounge. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted to go into the nursery, and his hormones were making him grumpy about Clark’s absence. He had left without telling him, so Bruce decided that he was going to get some work done without telling Clark. It was petty, but he needed a distraction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rose from the bed and began to dress himself. Only a few of the shirts he had purchased in Star City fit him anymore, so he settled for a loose gray top with short sleeves and soft fabric. He threw his pajama pants on next; they had become his go-to pair of bottoms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt so sluggish, confined to the house and unable to wear his regular clothes, but another sharp pain in his lower abdomen reminded him what he was suffering for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Bruce said aloud, pulling his shirt down over his bump and leaving one hand on it. “Hey, hey, hey. I feel ya, but that hurts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ran his hand down to the source of the pain and began rubbing small circles again. He noticed that his skin was unusually taut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You unhappy, buddy?” He asked. “What’s got you so restless?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pain faded again, and Bruce donned a pair of slippers before leaving the room. He made to go down to the nursery right away, but realized he should probably say good morning to Alfred, see where Clark had gone, and get a bite to eat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His butler was sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee and eating a plate of eggs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I heard you in the shower, so I made you some,” Alfred said, nodding to a plate on the counter. His plate also had 4 slices of bacon and a piece of buttered toast. “I only finished a few minutes ago, should still be hot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce took the plate gratefully and sat down across from Alfred.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where is he?” Bruce asked, taking a large bite of breakfast. “It’s only a little after 8, what was the early morning emergency?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s quite a ways away, actually,” said Alfred. “Mr. Allen was the one who sent the alarm, so Master Clark is presently in Central City. Something about a half-shark half-man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce sighed, putting his fork down for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t either of you wake me?” he asked, sadly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need your rest, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, matter-of-factly. “I assumed that despite this you would be unhappy if we did not rouse you, but Master Clark would not let me. He said it took a long time for you to fall asleep last night, and he left around 4:30 this morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I <em>am</em> unhappy,” Bruce said. He poked at his food, grumpily, before resolving to continue eating. “It’s not like I could have tried to come, even if I wanted to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred chuckled. He stopped when Bruce shot him a glare. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He asked me to make sure that you don’t go downstairs, though,” he continued. “I think he’s worried that you’ll track him and find yourself stressing all day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to work in the nursery,” Bruce said between bites. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred frowned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Master Clark had intended its decoration as a surprise,” he said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well,” Bruce scoffed, shoveling the last of his eggs into his mouth. “Waking up to an empty bed was enough of a surprise for me. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t want me to see it, he just said he wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>me see it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I understand,” Alfred said. “It is you who will face his disappointment when he finds out, not me. I had no part in this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What else am I supposed to do?” Bruce groaned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He carried his now empty plate and Alfred’s to the sink, beginning to fill it with warm water. He grabbed the dish soap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, allow me to wash the dishes,” Alfred said, rising to his feet as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damnit Alfred,” Bruce said. “I want to do them! I need to feel useful. Drink your damn coffee.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stood over the sink for a few seconds, then turned to his butler.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he said. “Uncalled for.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And unintentional,” Alfred said. He chuckled. “It’s funny how much you continue to remind me of Martha when she was pregnant with you. Moodiest she ever was. One minute she was crying, then she was yelling, then she was jumping for joy. Your father and I had no clue what to say to her when.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This made Bruce feel even worse about the tears that were now forming in his eyes. He chose not to say anything, rather focusing his attention on the dishes. By the time he had washed and dried all of the pans, plates, and utensils that Alfred had used, about 15 minutes had passed. Alfred had stayed at the table the whole time, chatting about this and that, all the while monitoring Clark’s location and keeping one ear on the com. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce laid down the towel and turned toward his butler, opening his mouth to say something. He was cut off by another sharp pain in his abdomen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s really kicking me this morning,” he said, wincing slightly. “That’s like the third time he’s sent one right to the bottom of my gut.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s to be expected.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce waited until the pain had dissipated again, then made his way toward the lounge. Alfred had guilted him out of going into the nursery, but he needed something to do. More video games and movies, he supposed. If he couldn’t be out fighting crime for himself, he’d have to settle for some virtual action.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He spent a long time doing just that, basically just waiting for Clark to get home. Before he knew it it was late in the afternoon. Alfred had busied himself with something, and had left Bruce more or less alone with his thoughts and his kicking baby, only interrupting him once to tell him Clark was leaving Central City and would be home around 5.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had felt that pain intermittently throughout the morning and afternoon. It seemed to be getting more frequent and stronger and Bruce was getting tired of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One particularly large kick sent a ripple of pain shooting toward his back that was worse than the others. It caught him off guard, and he gasped, his hand quickly starting the soothing circles again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Baby boy,” he said, looking at his bump. “Why are you so restless today? You’ve been kicking me all day. Are you getting tired of being in there? I’m sure tired of-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The colour suddenly drained from his face, and his hand stopped moving. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy fucking shit.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He checked the time. 3:39pm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tried to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. How had he not seen this earlier?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tried resuming his game, barely making it through another level before the pain returned. He shifted his weight on the sofa, moving his hips as if trying to get away from the squeezing in his abdomen. He checked the time again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>3:58pm. It had been 19 minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He breathed through it as it went away again, and Bruce tried to go back to playing his game again. He was very distracted now--he died about 8 times in a span of 15 minutes, which was highly unusual for a gamer of his caliber. He decided to customize a car instead, figuring that at least he couldn’t lose experience points if he chose the wrong colour paint. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was almost finished designing what he felt was a particularly sharp looking Viper when the pain returned. He tried shifting his weight again, rubbing gentle circles into the base of his bump like he had done in the morning. He didn’t want to know but he needed to, so he looked at the clock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>4:17pm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck fuck fuck. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bruce thought. Another 19 minutes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The baby wasn’t kicking him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was in labor.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here we go!!!</p><p>Thank you for all of your kudos and comments. I'm so grateful for your support!</p><p>Thanks for stopping by!</p><p>Laynee</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bruce goes into the nursery to labor, and Clark comes home.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A few of you comment on every chapter I post, and every work that I post, and honestly...thank you. It means the world to me to see you guys coming back and continuously supporting me. Thanks so much! &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>At first, Bruce’s revelation was too intimidating for him to even move. He stayed glued to the couch, one hand rubbing circles on his stomach, his eyes fixed blankly on the television screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt light headed before he realized he was hyperventilating, and forced himself to slow his breathing. He stroked his bump from its base to his breast bone breathing in on the upstroke and out on the down. After a few minutes, this seemed to have calmed him down. His breathing was regulated, and he felt more aware of his position.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t feel bad about heading to the nursery this time. It wasn’t because he was impatient and bored anymore. He was going up there now because he needed to make sure it was ready. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They could potentially have their baby by the end of the day--he needed to make sure he had a place to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gently pushed the door open and reached for the light. Once he had turned it on, his heart leapt into his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The walls were painted a deep blue with little white freckles all over them. In one corner of the room there was a crib with a mobile over it, strung with planets and moons that Bruce was sure were replicas of Krypton and it’s galaxy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crib itself was bright white, lined with a purplish blue covered mattress and some fluffy stuffed animals. There was a matching white changing table nestled against one wall, and a matching bookshelf across another. In the middle of the floor was a glider, a modern rocking chair that Bruce had admired on the internet, resting on top of a deep blue carpet with stars on it as well. There were some toys already on top of a bright white toy box, and Bruce could see some letter stencils laying haphazardly next to them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They hadn’t officially decided a name, but he was sure Clark intended on painting it on once they had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce stood in complete shock. The bookshelf was lined with things for the baby--fairytales, picture books, sensory books, building bricks, a baby monitor, folded stacks of jumpers and onesies, blankets, socks and booties… there was so much purchased without Bruce knowing, so much lovingly chosen for their son and it overwhelmed him. He walked slowly into the room, his arms cradled instinctually around his stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is your room, baby boy,” he whispered. “And your Daddy did it all for you. We can’t wait to meet you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His whispers were met with another sharp pain. It seemed less intense standing up. He was able to arch his back a little bit, which relieved some pressure, and rocking from one foot to another helped him focus his breathing. He looked at the time on his phone. 4:35pm. The last contraction had been 18 minutes ago. He was making very slow progress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thought about calling Leslie, but decided not to. He thought about telling Alfred, but he decided against that as well. He knew that if he told either of them, they would want to keep an eye on him, and at that particular moment he didn’t want anyone with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew it was only going to get worse from here, so he needed this time to ground himself. He needed to get himself in check with reality, or it was going to be a very long night, and he knew that Clark was going to be home very soon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clark</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Should I call him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clark will be home very soon,” he repeated to himself, aloud. “Less than an hour. No need to worry him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He decided he would spend some time more closely investigating the nursery, hoping that seeing all of the things that Clark had prepared for their son would make him feel more prepared. He tried not to check his phone frequently as he combed through piles of tiny clothes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark had gone all out. There had to be at least 50 different complete outfits, and Bruce had only picked out </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>6. A few of them were larger, clearly intended to fit their son after he had grown a bit, but many of them were so tiny. It made Bruce’s heart pound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon he was going to be able to hold his son, the little baby that had been growing inside him for 8 months now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At 4:52, another contraction rippled through Bruce’s stomach. He felt more ready for them now that he knew they were coming. It didn’t stop them from hurting, though, and he knew he was only in early labour. The intensity was going to increase. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled a book off of the shelf and settled down into the glider, rocking slowly back and forth as he rode out the last few seconds of the contraction. When it had gone, he opened to a random story in the collection and began to read.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>About 15 minutes after he had sat down, he heard a knock on the door frame of the room. He looked up and saw Clark. He looked exhausted. His hair was tousled and his normally perfect posture had waned slightly. He was in his regular clothes, which were also disheveled. He was holding a black box in his hands, and it looked like he was very sad about something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wanted so badly to see you see it,” he said quietly. Bruce felt a pang of guilt hit him in the chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Clark,” Bruce said. “I know you did, and I shouldn’t have come in here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark dropped his hands to his sides.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you like it at least?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like it?” Bruce said, quietly and honestly. “Clark, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. I have no words to describe how I feel sitting in here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled a little, but he still looked disappointed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s Krypton, isn’t it?” Bruce asked, nodding at the mobile. “You must have made that yourself. It’s beautiful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s smile widened a bit. “Yeah, I made it myself. It took a long time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You did a wonderful job,” Bruce said, honestly. His hand fell naturally to his stomach. “And the clothes and the furniture… everything matches so perfectly… I don’t know how you did it…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you like the glider?” Clark asked, smirking as Bruce began rocking in it. His boyfriend didn’t respond, but rather, Clark noticed that he was massaging firm circles into the base of his bump. “Bruce?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce looked up, his hand not shifting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love it,” he said, trying to hide the gasp in his voice. He pulled out his phone. 5:09pm. Another 17 minutes. He took a few more slow breaths, and the pain finally wore off. “I really do, it’s very comfortable, thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce tried to smile sweetly, but Clark’s brow was already furrowed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” he asked Bruce, stepping forward into the room. “You looked like you were in pain, are you in pain?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce tried to look away from him, but Clark gently turned his chin back to face him. He kneeled on the floor in front of the glider, taking Bruce’s hands into his own. Bruce hadn't intended on telling him right away, figured they could at least talk about Clark's day first, but the shining blue of his boyfriend's concern-filled eyes convinced him otherwise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Remember our promise, Bruce,” Clark said. “I’m here to help you, whatever you need.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re 17 minutes apart right now,” Bruce said, quietly. “I’m trying to keep myself busy to keep myself grounded, that’s why I came in here without you. It’s already way more painful than I was expecting and I’m only in the first stages.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took Clark a few seconds to register what Bruce had said, and then suddenly he looked a little less tired.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re in labor,” he stated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bruce sighed. “I didn’t realize it until an hour ago, but I think at this point it’s been going on for just over 9 hours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nine?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Clark asked, his jaw opening a bit. “What the hell?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was woken up this morning by a pain in the base of my stomach. I honestly thought that he was just kicking me. Then it happened once in the shower and once while I was getting dressed, then again when I went down for breakfast with Alfred. Looking back on it, each of those was around half an hour apart.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark held his gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred let me wash the dishes so I felt useful, then told me that I shouldn’t go into the nursery. I felt guilty so I started to play GTA instead. Admittedly, I was there for most of the duration of my labor thus far, not cluing in that it was anything more than just kicking. As soon as I realized, I felt myself starting to panic a little, so I came up here to look for a distraction.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark squeezed his hands, comfortingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I have one more thing to add to the nursery," Clark said excitedly, gesturing to the black box. "Close your eyes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce obliged, listening as Clark fiddled with something. He heard the click of the light switch and saw through his eyelids that the room was much darker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, open," Clark said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He did, and what he saw made his jaw drop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bat signal was projected onto the ceiling, a small lamp Clark had just set up sending soft blue light cascading across the dark room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I figure this way, he'll always know you're here to protect him." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce's eyes welled with tears and he tried to stand up. His large stomach was in the way, and a few tears </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually spilled </span>
  </em>
  <span>when Clark came and helped him up. He pulled his partner into a tender hug, gently placing his hands on his baby bump. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you’ve been laboring all by yourself for almost 10 hours,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to Bruce's forehead. “You’re so strong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tears were still rolling silently down his cheeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t feel strong,” he said. “How could I not even notice I was having contractions? And then as soon as I did…and now I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking crying</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Full on crying.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His breathing quickened, and he hiccupped a few times, his shoulders trembling slightly. Moving his hands from Bruce’s stomach, Clark wrapped his partner into a tight hug, one hand gently pressing Bruce’s head into his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s own stomach twisted as Bruce let out a pained sob. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought I could do it, Clark,” he said, his voice muffled by his tears and Clark’s shirt. “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Put your arms around my neck,” Clark said in response. Bruce was accustomed to Clark carrying him, so when his legs were lifted off the ground he instinctively wrapped them around Clark’s waist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was glad that Clark had chosen to carry him like this, instead of bridal style. Not only did this position save him from having to bend his body awkwardly around his bump, but it also allowed him to stay pressed against Clark’s warm and comforting chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark effortlessly carried him down the stairs to the main floor. Bruce didn’t notice that they were approaching Alfred on their way to the lounge, and so missed his butler’s incredibly concerned face when Bruce’s breath hitched and his whole body tensed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to put you down?” Clark asked, sensing that another contraction had started. He felt Bruce’s head rock side to side, and so paused in the hall. Alfred stood a few feet away, looking concerned and helpless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred,” Clark said quietly, tightening his grip on Bruce slightly as he felt him shift. “Could you phone Leslie for us? Tell her that Bruce’s contractions are…” he checked his watch. “16 minutes apart, and that they’re already a little more painful than he was anticipating.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark felt Bruce’s body relax a little and he shifted his head so that he could see Alfred through his swollen eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell her they fucking hurt,” he said, still leaning heavily into Clark’s chest. “You can put me down if you would rather I walk the rest of the way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark did not put him down, thanking Alfred as he moved to another room to make the call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even when they had reached a couch, Clark still did not put him down, but rather shifted his legs so that he could sit with Bruce on his lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Relaxing into Clark’s chest again, Bruce hiccupped some more. Clark could feel that his shirt was wet with tears as he began gently massaging different muscles along his partner’s back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You <em>are</em> doing it, Bruce” he whispered gently. “Don’t say you thought you could as if you already can’t. Every contraction you bear brings us closer to meeting our baby boy. Just think, 12 hours from now he’ll be in your arms.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hopefully he comes in the next 12 hours,” Bruce said solemnly, pulling his head away from Clark’s chest. “My contractions are still 16 minutes apart. Leslie said they have to get down to 5 before I’m technically in active labor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Clark said, moving his hands so that he was gently massaging the bottom of Bruce’s bump, mindful of the bruises. "It could be a long night. So, what do you want to do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They settled on watching a movie and cuddling on the couch. Bruce endured 4 more contractions, each 16 minutes apart. The fifth came after 15 minutes, and the sixth after 13. Those carried them to the end of the movie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How are you doing?” Clark asked Bruce. His tears had stopped, and it seemed that he was able to more confidently endure the pain now that his initial anxiety had passed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Better,” Bruce responded. “They still hurt, a lot, but not as bad now that you’re here and you know what’s going on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You could have called me,” Clark smiled softly. There was no anger in his voice, just a hint of exasperation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, I didn’t know I was even in labor until around 4 o’clock. At that point you were already on your way home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was laying half on top of Clark, his head nestled in his lap. Each time Bruce had a contraction, he used Clark as a sort of focal point. Bruce found it relaxing to allow himself to get lost in the blue of Clark’s eyes, and though it was difficult for Clark to see the pain in Bruce’s eyes, he was glad he could be of some help to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark suddenly chuckled. “I was intending on having a shower as soon as I got home. I’m surprised you want to lay on me right now. I probably stink.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce smiled, leaning his head toward Clark’s body and breathing in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said, teasing. “You kind of do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark looked at him with fake hurt on his face, then broke into a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about a bath?” He suggested, looking at Bruce. “I know you’ve already showered today, but we could have a bath together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Bruce said, immediately. “That sounds so nice right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark helped him sit up, then stood. He took a few steps, but noticed that Bruce was not behind him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce?” He turned around to see his partner still sitting on the couch, his arms up in the air and his lip visibly protruding. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>pouting</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I got carried down here, I don’t get carried back?” Bruce said, still pouting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark chuckled and walked back to where Bruce was sitting. He leaned down and Bruce wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck again, wrapping his legs around his waist and settling in for the ride.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were halfway up the stairs when Bruce tensed again. Clark felt his breath on his chest, and instead of stopping like he had on their way down, he kept walking. The contraction was over by the time they reached the bedroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark gently sat Bruce down on the bed and began helping him undress. He pulled his shirt gently past Bruce’s bump, pecking him on the lips once before pulling it over his head, and again after it had been discarded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lifted him off the bed again, tugging at the waistband of Bruce’s pajama pants until he was completely naked. Then, Bruce still in his arms, he made his way to the bathroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce sat on the edge of the large jacuzzi, watching as Clark began to fill it with gloriously warm water. It really was more like a small hot tub, wide and deep. He watched as Clark stripped his own clothes off, and smiled when he put bubble bath in the water as well. When he was satisfied that the tub was full enough, Clark stepped into the water. He easily lifted Bruce up again, holding him close to his chest and settling both of them into a nook. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce lay nestled safely between Clark’s legs, leaning back on his boyfriend’s solid but comfortable abdomen. His hands naturally found their way to his stomach. He wasn’t having a contraction, but he found himself tracing small gentle circles around his scar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Clark whispered into his ear, wrapping his arms around Bruce’s chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too,” Bruce said softly. He nestled his chin into the divot between Clark’s neck and shoulder. “I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Bruce’s head, caressing his arms slowly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes you would, but you don’t have to,” he said. “You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met, Bruce, and the most handsome.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce felt his cheeks flush pink, still unused to Clark’s many compliments, and nuzzled closer into Clark’s warm skin. The residual muscle soreness he was beginning to feel from the contractions was dissipating, the warm water soothing his aching back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stayed like that for a few minutes in silence, until Bruce’s body tensed again. Clark began breathing audibly with Bruce, in and out at a steady pace to encourage him to do the same. It worked, the contraction passing without too much complaint. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See?” Clark said, squeezing Bruce. “So strong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not looking forward to active labor,” Bruce said. “I’m starting to see why women criticize men for saying a hit to the balls is worse than childbirth.” He shifted uncomfortably. “It’s definitely not worse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark chuckled at his boyfriend’s rambling. They returned to silence, Bruce closing his eyes and relishing in the relaxing warmth of the water.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few more contractions passed before the water cooled off and Bruce became uncomfortable. Clark began to drain the tub, pushing Bruce lightly to help him stand. From his still seated position, Clark could really see how much Bruce’s baby bump had dropped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, Bruce. He’s really sitting low, now, isn’t he?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded, bracing his body with two hands on his back. Clark stood himself and stepped out of the bath. He wrapped Bruce’s arms around his neck again, and carried him out to the bedroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay alone for a few minutes?” Clark asked, laying Bruce on the bed. “I’d like to jump in the shower just to wash out my hair.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” he said. “I’m just going to wait here though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was only gone about 5 minutes, but it was long enough that Bruce had to get through another contraction by himself. 9:06pm. He could tell they were getting much closer together, and he felt silly having ignored the time while they were in the bath. Despite having just freshened up, he felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He was suddenly conscious of how incredibly hot he was, and focused on the fact that he could hear Alfred downstairs moving about and talking with someone.  He felt slightly annoyed; now was not exactly the best time for house guests.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark came back wearing a long sleeve t-shirt and his own pajama pants, carrying a fresh pair of pants for Bruce as well. He went to grab another oversized shirt, but Bruce shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just the pants,” he said. “Had another one, too hot for it. I’ll go shirtless.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smirked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you know I won’t mind that in the slightest.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce rolled his eyes, and when Clark pulled him up he slid the pants on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wanna lie in bed for a little,” Bruce said, leaning back onto the pillows. “Could you do me a favor?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Clark said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred’s talking to someone, can you just go see who it is? I think it’s Leslie, but I want to know for sure if it’s decent for me to come downstairs with no shirt on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark left the room, and came back 5 minutes later with Leslie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was staring intently at the foot of the bed, breathing deeply. Leslie stood in the door while Clark made his way over to Bruce’s side. His muscles were tense once again, and Clark pressed a few gentle kisses into his temple. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi Leslie,” Bruce said, when the pain had passed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello Bruce,” she said warmly. “How are you doing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My last two contractions were 7 minutes apart,” he announced. Clark grabbed his hand and squeezed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re coming along,” he said, looking fondly at his partner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you are,” Leslie agreed. “Alfred said that it’s been a little more painful than you expected.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah it has,” Bruce said, smiling weakly. “I give credit to every person who has ever given birth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To be fair,” Leslie said, sympathetically. “You’re the first person to give birth to a kryptonian baby. Your body has to work overtime to make the same progress as someone with a human baby.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lucky me,” Bruce said, sarcastically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Clark said, looking very stressed. “I’m so sorry I’m putting you through this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Bruce said. “Don’t apologize. I wouldn’t want a human baby, because that would mean I’m having it with someone other than you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They pressed their foreheads together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Has anyone ever told you how adorable of a couple you are?” Leslie said, smiling widely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they broke apart, Leslie started explaining how she anticipated the night would play out, and what precautions she wanted to take to ensure the smoothest possible delivery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be more comfortable here,” Leslie said. “So I’m perfectly happy to allow you to ride out the rest of the first stage and a bit of the second here. Based on your progress, I don’t think we’re going to meet him until the middle of the night, potentially towards the early morning. So, I’m glad to see you’re in bed now, because your body needs as much physical rest as possible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce sighed and looked down at his lap. Tears were filling his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought I was getting closer,” he murmured. Clark lifted a hand to his back, rubbing it soothingly. Leslie stepped in and sat on the corner of the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are, Bruce,” she said. “Early labor on average lasts between 12 and 14 hours. If you’ve been in labor since this morning, as Clark told me you have been, that means you’re almost done with this part.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My contractions aren’t down to 5 minutes apart yet,” Bruce said, sniffling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Leslie said, patiently. “But they’re pretty close to that. Plus, I haven’t checked your dilation yet, which gives me a more precise determination of where you’re at.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what can we expect going forward?” Clark asked, still rubbing Bruce’s back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, in a minute I’m going to go ahead and do that check, if he’s alright with that. With that in mind, I can pretty accurately predict what sort of time frame we’re looking at, although that can sometimes go faster or slower, depending on the person. “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie explained more in depth what the next little while would likely look like. It was good that Clark was listening, as Bruce’s attention was taken away from Leslie as another contraction gripped his abdomen. Clark let him squeeze his hand, unphased, and Leslie just continued talking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His water hasn’t broken yet, so we can expect that that will be happening soon. That generally signals the start of active labor as well. Bruce’s cervix will be basically unable to efface efficiently until that’s happened. If it doesn’t in the next few hours, I can break it myself, but we prefer to let the body do it naturally.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was nodding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Normally, the start of active labor is a good time to seek medical attention, but I’m already here. I can keep an eye on him and pretty accurately judge when it’s time to head over to the clinic.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I’m going to have him there?” Bruce asked, able to speak again. “Also, 6 minutes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excellent,” Leslie smiled. “Yes, I’m afraid for your safety and his, it’s probably best if I take you over there. It would be more comfortable here, but I don’t have near as much equipment here, even in the cave. I want to know that I have things on hand so that I can be as confident as possible in helping you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded this time. He had been expecting this as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So the goal is to be at the clinic by the time you enter transition, which is the final phase before you start to push.” She said. “Transition, I will not lie, is the worst part. I’ve met lots of women who have said that they would rather relive the pushing than the transition, and it usually only lasts a little over half an hour.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s so bad about that part?” Clark asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your contractions at that point will be almost back to back. You’ll only have anywhere between 30 seconds and 2 minutes between each one, and they will last about twice as long as they are now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce cringed. “It’s hard enough with more than 5 minutes between them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Leslie said. “I hope I’m not scaring you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The bat doesn’t get scared,” Bruce said, frowning. He felt lightheaded, though, so he corrected himself. “Brucie might a little, but I balance myself out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark kissed his temple again, and both he and Leslie chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing really well,” she said. “It probably feels like you’re not, but I’ve assisted with a few deliveries and often they’re way more stressed than you are right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Bruce,” Clark whispered. Bruce couldn’t respond as his muscles clenched. Clark breathed with him as he had in the bath, and together they worked their way through the contraction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You too,” Bruce panted, leaning into Clark to rest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Another 6 minutes,” Leslie said, reaching out to hand something to Clark. “It’s just a stopwatch. It’s better to use an actual one rather than the clock. It times the contractions down to the second. Can I check your dilation, Bruce? Before another contraction comes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do whatever you want,” he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark moved just enough to pull Bruce’s pants to his knees, and Leslie slid them the rest of the way off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she said, realizing she had left him completely naked. “You kind of lose your privacy when you give birth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She propped Bruce’s knees up so she had a better view, and knelt at the foot of the bed. She snapped on a pair of examination gloves, and Bruce winced when he felt her fingers inside of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was over in a few seconds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re actually just over 3 centimeters effaced,” she said. “For your contractions still being 6 minutes apart-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce’s body tensed again. Clark looked down at the stopwatch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was only 4,” he said. “What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce is officially in active labor!” she said, happily. “I’m going to go downstairs and leave you two alone for a bit. This is a good time to spend some intimate time together. Cuddle, walk around, I would say have a bath but you already did that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Leslie,” Clark said, smiling. “We’d be lost without your help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s my pleasure,” she said. “Come and get me when his water breaks or it’s been 2 hours. Whichever comes first. Bruce, don’t be afraid to vocalize. It can help with the pain as long as you’re still breathing properly.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>EEEEK I'm excited for this. This is always my favorite part. I hope you guys enjoy the next few chapters!<br/>I'm so grateful for your support, as always.<br/>Thanks for stopping by!</p><p>Laynee</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I mean I have them written, so you're just going to keep getting them lol</p><p>ENJOY!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bruce stayed on the bed for another 30 minutes before he decided to get up and walk around. Clark was getting antsier as the time passed. Despite Leslie’s suggestion, Bruce had not been vocalizing and he was worried his partner was holding back because he was self-conscious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s a lot of pressure on my pelvis,” Bruce said. He was standing in the corner of the room, back in his pajama pants. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying some movement in the hopes that it would relieve the pressure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want the ball?” Clark asked him, glancing at the closet. “It’s up there, I could blow it up for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Bruce said, switching to rocking from foot to foot. “And I want you too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark opened the package and, with a few big breaths, inflated the rubber ball. He carried it over to Bruce, who sank gratefully onto it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where do you want me?” Clark asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just...here,” Bruce said. Moments later Clark watched as his partner’s muscles clenched. Bruce had not expressed the severity of the pain verbally, but Clark could tell by the lines of his face and the increasing amounts of sweat that Bruce was struggling to bear the pain already. He took his hand and was silently thankful for his own physical strength. Bruce was squeezing him </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and if he could have felt the pain it wouldn’t have been nice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leslie said you could vocalize, Bruce,” Clark said gently. “It might be worth a try. It could help you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t need to…” Bruce breathed, rocking forward and backward on the ball. Clark sighed at Bruce’s stubbornness, but let the subject drop. He didn’t want to push him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re still 4 minutes apart,” Clark said. “It’s been 4 for a while now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you help me stand up?” Bruce asked. “I actually think I want to keep walking.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark did, and Bruce was still pacing when the next contraction hit. Clark was exasperated when he saw how much Bruce was struggling. He was also holding his breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce, sweetheart, you need to breathe,” Clark said. It didn’t make a difference.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the contraction had passed, Bruce let out a massive amount of air, panting slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, Clark,” he said, noting the worried expression on his boyfriend’s face. “I just…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stopped talking and looked down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The pressure’s gone, something’s happened,” he said, a little frantically. Clark noticed a large wet spot on Bruce’s pajama pants, and smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your water broke!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It did?” Bruce asked, excitedly. “Oh thank fuck. Now hopefully things start to go a bit faster. Can you go tell Leslie?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark left the room and headed downstairs. Leslie and Alfred were drinking coffee at the kitchen table. He glanced at the clock. 10:03pm. Bruce had been in labour for over 15 hours.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His water broke,” he said. Leslie smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perfect,” she said. “I’m glad it happened naturally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Clark replied. “He’s still not vocalizing though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, he’s a proud one,” she smiled. “A lot of women who don’t want to admit they’re in as much pain as they’re in refuse to vocalize. Eventually it becomes too much for them and it just sort of happens involuntarily.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Batman? Too proud to admit he’s in pain? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Never!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Clark joked. Then suddenly he frowned. “We should go back up. His breathing just hitched, so he’s probably having another contraction.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie nodded, and stood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m just going to come up for a minute. I want to look at the fluid and make sure nothing is wrong and check Bruce’s dilation again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can hear him sighing a little,” Clark said. “Does that count as vocalizing?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s the start of it for sure,” she responded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The contraction had passed by the time they reached the door, and Bruce had stripped his pants off. He was back on the ball, now completely naked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce…” Clark shook his head, smiling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s gonna see it all anyway, and she’s had her fingers up my ass,” Bruce said gruffly, throwing his hands up in defeat. “And she’s probably here to put them there again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s right,” Leslie said. “Don’t worry about me, it doesn’t phase me in the slightest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie looked at the dark blue pajama pants Bruce had discarded on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“The amniotic fluid was pretty clear,” she said. “That’s what we want. Limited blood. Can you lay down for me again Bruce?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sat down on the edge of the bed, but before he could lay down he was hit with another contraction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he muttered, his muscles tensing again. Clark rubbed his back, trying his best to comfort him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stayed silent again, but this time he took deep breaths. Clark was grateful for at least that, although he wished that Bruce would set aside his damn pride and just yell or scream or something. Clark felt like it was harder to watch him suffer in silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the contraction had passed, Bruce slowly laid down again and allowed Clark to help him prop his knees up. He laid waiting for the feeling of Leslie’s fingers again, and tried not to squirm in discomfort when she had started the exam.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Five,” she said contentedly, after a few minutes had passed. “Half-way there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Half-way?” Bruce said, a hint of panic in his voice. “I’m only half-way done this shi... ohhh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instinctually, he had grabbed Clark’s hand and was squeezing very tightly. “Ohh fuck,” he breathed. Clark felt relieved that Bruce was finally allowing himself to make some noise, even if it was just cussing. He could see that his body was not as tense as it had been through other contractions, but could somehow sense that this one was worse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really hurts…” he said, leaning against Clark’s chest. “Ohh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s good, Bruce,” Leslie said. “You need to keep up with the vocalizing. It forces you to breathe properly, and let’s Clark and I know where you’re at. You need to keep him in the loop so that he can be where you need him and can help you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark looked very appreciative as Bruce nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m at ‘this really fucking hurts’ right now,” he said, a little snarkily. “It’s like twice as bad now that my water broke.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s normal,” Leslie said. “Things are picking up now. You’re going to start dilating faster now, and I’m going to come up and check your progress every half hour. Now’s the time where I have to keep a close watch on you to make sure we can get to the lab in time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark thanked her again, and she headed back downstairs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you lie next to me?” Bruce asked, once Clark had helped him wiggle into a fresh pair of pajama pants.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I can,” Clark said, crawling around Bruce’s legs and resting so that Bruce could curl into him. “Please listen to her and vocalize. I could physically see a difference in your body when you were making noise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded and curled closer into Clark’s body. They were silent for quite a few contractions, Bruce ignoring Clark’s plea for the most part until suddenly he heard Bruce say lowly: “Fuckkkk…ohhh...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was finally fully vocalizing, and Clark was relieved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clark,” he drew his name out, squeezing his bicep. “Ohh….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At this point, the contractions were still 4 minutes apart but had gotten longer, each lasting around a minute. Leslie had come and gone once, deciding against physically checking him anymore and resolving to leave for the lab once his contractions were 3 minutes apart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so strong, Bruce,” Clark said. “So strong. I’m so proud of you, bringing our child into the world.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce responded with another drawn out “oh,” still pressed tightly up against Clark’s chest and still squeezing his bicep. That was how he worked through the next hour, moaning lowly or saying Clark’s name. Squeezing any body part of Clark’s he could get his hand on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Clark drew away from Bruce for a second just to look at him. Bruce’s hair somehow still looked like it had been styled, even though it was sticking up in all different directions. The rest of him looked rugged. He had dark rings around his eyes, clearly exhausted already, and he was sweating profusely. Even then, in the throes of labor, Clark was in awe at how beautiful his boyfriend was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had originally planned to do it in the nursery, overwhelming Bruce not only with all of the work he had put into it, but with a ring as well. Bruce’s labor had thrown that plan out of the window, and even though he really had only meant to tell him how handsome he was, Clark found himself blurting out the words anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so beautiful,” he said, followed immediately by: “Marry me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was in between contractions at this point, so he drew his head back to look at Clark as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asked. Clark blushed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nevermind,” he said, quickly. “It’s a garbage time for me to bring it up. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes it is,” Bruce said firmly, a trace of a smile on his face. ”Really horrible, but yes, I will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Clark said, looking sheepish and slightly surprised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Bruce said, inhaling sharply. “I will...marry you…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark wrapped Bruce’s hand around his own, smiling widely as Bruce moaned lowly. He rubbed his partner’s back with the other hand, breathing with him until it had disappeared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Bruce was relaxed again, Clark rolled to the side of the bed, reaching for something in the nightstand drawer. A small velvet box.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to put it on,” he said, quietly smiling. “But I do have a ring for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce gasped when Clark clicked the box open. A sleek platinum band with titanium coated grooves shone in the dim light of the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How could you afford that?” Bruce asked, in awe of his partner’s clearly expensive and </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful</span>
  </em>
  <span> taste.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been saving since we found out you were pregnant,” he said. “Moving here meant I no longer had to pay rent, so every paycheck, I put away the rent money for your ring instead. I didn’t realize how expensive my apartment had been until I saw the total I had saved.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Put it on me,” Bruce said, holding out his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Clark asked. “Honestly, I accidentally blurted that out. I had planned on asking you when you first saw the nursery, but I missed that opportunity. I thought you might be upset that it wasn’t very romantic.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Upset? No. I’d be thrilled to give birth to our son as your official fiancé.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark pulled him in for a deep kiss. Bruce broke away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Put it on me, Clark,” Bruce said, inhaling sharply. “Then.. Leslie...3 minutes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark pulled the ring out of the box and slid it onto Bruce’s finger. He wanted to stay and hold onto him while he rode out the contraction, but Bruce waved him off. He moved very quickly, too quickly for a human.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leslie, they're 3 minutes apart,” he said. She nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Time to go then,” she said. She and Alfred rose to their feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I drove Dr. Thompkins here,” Alfred said. “So I will drive all three of you to the clinic. While Master Bruce has been laboring, I took the liberty of packing a bag to take. If its contents do not suffice, I will be happy to drive back here to get anything he may need, although I did pack a little bit excessively.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled gratefully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Alfred. Thank you very much for everything.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark suddenly stiffened, turned around and shot off the ground and up into the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clark! Really...bad...please...need you…” Bruce was sputtering when Clark came rushing into the room, one hand clutching his bump and one outstretched to Clark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m here, I’m here,” he said, clutching at Bruce’s hand and letting him collapse against his chest. “I’ve got you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ohh fuuck,” Bruce breathed heavily. “Ohhh fuuuck, Clark. Ohhhh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie reached the room a moment later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred’s gone to get the car, Bruce, we’re going to get you over to the clinic now. You’re almost done with active labor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded in response, but did not say anything, focusing on his breathing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to carry you?” Clark asked. Bruce wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck like he had done earlier in the day, still breathing deeply. Clark took that as a yes and gently lifted his fiancé off the bed, wrapping Bruce’s legs around his own waist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that okay?” he said, shifting his weight a little bit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm…” Bruce responded, nuzzling his face into Clark’s neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred had parked Bruce’s large black SUV as close as he could have to the front door when they left the manor. The butler had gotten out and proceeded to open the door for Leslie, who had come out a few steps before them. Once she was safely in, he opened the back door of the SUV and watched worriedly as Clark gently lowered Bruce onto the back seat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce had evidently caught a glimpse of his butler’s face. As soon as he was pulled away from Clark he turned to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to be okay, Alfred,” he said, surprisingly calmly. “What’s the good in having the world’s strongest as your boyfriend if he won’t carry you everywhere?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred nodded. Clark knew all about the father-son relationship that Bruce and Alfred shared, so imagined it was also difficult for Alfred to see Bruce in this much pain. Bruce clearly recognized that as well, trying to make light of the tense situation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce silently endured 7 contractions on the way to the lab, each of them still 3 minutes apart. Clark let him squeeze the life out of his hand, knowing that he was trying to keep quiet for Alfred’s sake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they had arrived, Clark gently pulled Bruce back into his arms without even asking this time. Halfway to the building, Bruce had his 3rd contraction in Clark’s arms of the day, taking advantage of the distance between Clark and Alfred and the solidity of Clark’s shoulder muscles to let out a deep moan. It sent chills down Clark’s spine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark carried his fiancé into the elevator, and continued to hold him as they ascended to a room upstairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had originally planned on having him stay in the basement, but after Luthor...” Leslie explained. “But the room where I did all of his ultrasounds was too small. I brought up some of the equipment I needed a few weeks ago, realizing that his labor could begin at any moment. It’s a compromise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounds perfect,” Clark said, moving a hand up to Bruce’s back and rubbing in small circles. He could tell that Bruce was in pain again, trying desperately to hold back his cries. He decided that if Alfred was going to stay with them for any period of time, he was going to have to talk with Bruce. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t an issue. As soon as they were settled in the room and Leslie had decided to do a physical exam of Bruce, Alfred excused himself and moved presumably to another room in the building. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a little bit larger than the other room, but not as big as the basement room. There was another bed in this room as well, but it looked a little more comfortable and well-equipped than the cot Bruce had occupied before. There were some monitors around the bed as well. Clark felt a little more relaxed in a traditional birthing setting than he had in their house, though he imagined it was the opposite for his fiancé.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark helped Bruce change into the hospital gown Leslie had given them. This time, she didn’t even bother leaving the room. She busied herself with a few straps and wires, sorting out the equipment she would need.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as he was ready, she lifted stirrups that were tucked into the end of the bed and handed Clark a wide blue strap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We need that wrapped around Bruce’s stomach,” she explained. “Can you help him lift his hips and fasten it so that that monitor is just below his belly button and slightly to the right?” She gestured to a small box that was threaded onto the strap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a little difficulty and a few groans from Bruce, they managed to accomplish the task. A screen next to the bed lit up and began drawing lines that represented their son’s heartbeat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s good and strong right now, maybe a little fast, but nothing alarming,” Leslie said. “And so are you. You’re doing so great, Bruce. We’re getting there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She did a few more things before getting Clark to help Bruce shift to the end of the bed and raise his feet up into the stirrups.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clark will likely be behind you when it actually comes time to push,” Leslie said. “But this is approximately the position that I think is going to be most effective.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded, another contraction finishing its course as Leslie spoke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re still 3 minutes apart, so I’m going to take a look at your cervix. Let’s see what we’re working with now.” She assumed the position, withdrawing a few minutes later with a confident “7 cm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was shocked to hear Bruce practically burst into tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, please, please, I just want it to end,” he begged Leslie. “Please just let me start pushing. I can get him out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie smiled softly, while Clark wrapped his arms around Bruce. He lifted him gently and pulled his body farther up the bed so that his head was on the pillow and his feet were out of the stirrups. Once Bruce was more settled, he pulled a chair up next to where his head was laying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce,” she said, soothingly. “If I could tell you that you could start pushing right now, I would. You’re getting so close now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce covered his face with a hand and began sobbing. Clark leaned in to comfort him with gentle kisses. Leslie turned to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Effacement of 7cm indicates the start of transition,” Leslie said, quietly. “It’s going to get rough for a little while. The best thing you can do is try to keep him calm. He is going to need you a lot for the next little bit. Don’t leave his side if you can help it, even if he tries to kick you out. He’ll drift in and out of different emotions rather rapidly, so if he snaps at you, ignore it and wait. He’ll be in tears apologizing in less than a minute.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded, still holding Bruce close to his chest. Bruce was nearly hysterical, and likely couldn’t hear a word that Leslie was saying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In this phase, he’s eventually going to begin getting contractions that last longer than the time he has between. He’s going to be scared and his body will become even more exhausted, so just try to get him through one contraction at a time and remind him what he’s doing this for.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He also might feel like he’s overheating. There is a small tin of ice-chips in the freezer in the corner there. Feed him those if he is hot. You can also wet one of the washcloths with cold water and press it against his forehead, cheeks, and chest. That will help him too. He also might feel nauseous or vomit, and if he does, there is a pan next to you there for him to do it in. Ice chips or the cool compress after that will also help. He might find chewing the chips a welcome distraction as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is the last phase before pushing. He might feel the urge to push before he is actually fully effaced, so if he says he’s ready, you have to make sure you don’t let him start pushing until I’m here.” Leslie said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knew she was gurgitating a lot of information to Clark all at once, but she wanted to be sure he understood before she left Bruce alone to labor with his partner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any questions? That was a lot,” she asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where can I find you when it’s time?” He said, nervously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes,” she said, kicking herself for forgetting that. “This building used to be a hospital so there are still a few waiting rooms down the hall. Alfred is going to stay there until the baby is born, so I figured I would go and keep him company while I’m not needed. He’s very worried about Bruce.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah I noticed,” Clark said. “Bruce did too. I don’t think he would mind if Alfred came in during the birth, but I’m afraid he would try to hide his pain and it would be harder on him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rubbed soothing circles into Bruce’s shaking form. He was still crying, but Clark didn’t know what to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to leave,” Leslie said. “Try to remember what I’ve said, but if you have any questions, I’m right up the hall. Good luck.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love your comments, and I appreciate your kudos.</p><p>Thank you thank you thank you.</p><p>Thanks for stopping by!<br/>Laynee</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bruce finally gives birth.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>lol I'm sorry if I upset you guys making Bruce's labor last so long, but in my experience with reading mpreg, I always feel like labor passes ridiculously fast (meaning that we miss out on so many opportunities for fluff and hurt/comfort!!), which is kinda the best part lmao</p><p>so, anyway, for those of you who are eager to see the birth of their baby boy, here it is. He's officially here.</p><p>Also be prepared...there is angst (mwah ha ha I can't resist)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Once the door had clicked shut, Clark gently turned Bruce’s head away from the pillow so that he could see his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Bruce,” he said, smiling gently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” he said through tears, trying to return the smile. Clark could tell this was taking a lot out of him. Bruce was not an emotional man. He had become one more so in the last 6 months because of the upset in his hormones, but Bruce crying was so rare that Clark’s heart was breaking seeing his tear-streaked face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Clark said, dropping gently onto the side of the bed and grabbing Bruce's hand. “It’s okay to cry, it’s okay to scream and yell if it hurts too much. And aside from carrying you around, having the world’s strongest boyfriend means that I can also stand any amount of squeezing you want to inflict on my hands.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was trying to ease Alfred’s mind,” he said. Another contraction hit and his body tensed. “Fuuuck. Ohhh. Mmm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark noticed that Bruce was rocking gently from side to side, as if he was trying to escape the pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hurts,” he moaned. “Ohhh Clark.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark gripped his hands gently, trying desperately to figure out how to help him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got you, B,” he said. He could feel the pressure of Bruce squeezing him, but it didn’t hurt.  He almost wished it did. He wanted to be able to take away the pain his partner was feeling, but he could hardly do anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark had been diligently keeping an eye on the timer as well, making it more difficult to focus on Bruce’s contractions. He tried his best to follow them, but as it dissipated, he realized he had never started it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself, tossing the stopwatch to the side. “Bruce, Leslie says you’re going to start to feel the need to push some time soon. Can you tell me when that is without actually pushing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded, inhaling deeply and exhaling a guttural moan. There was more to each vocalization now, as if something primal was emerging from deep inside of Bruce to help him cope with the pain of preparing to deliver his son.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahhh,” his noise changed. He wasn’t screaming or yelling yet; Clark figured those types of noises might emerge during the actual birth. “Clark... ohhh fuck. Ohhh fuck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the contraction finished, Clark noticed that Bruce was really sweating now. His forehead and the neck and shoulders of his gown were soaked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S’hot,” Bruce panted. His face was extraordinarily flushed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want some ice chips?” Clark asked. “Or I can press a cool wash cloth against your forehead if that sounds good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chips,” Bruce said, shifting on the bed. “Please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Clark said, rising from his seat. He pressed a kiss to Bruce’s sweaty forehead before walking over to the freezer. He pulled the tin out and returned to Bruce’s side. When he opened it, he was surprised to find they were colored purple.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re flavored,” Bruce said, smiling at Clark’s confusion. “It wouldn’t be very tasty to chew on plain ice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark took a chip in his hand and fed it to Bruce. He happily accepted it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Grape,” he said, once the chip had dissolved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was about to hand him another when Bruce tensed up again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Already?” Clark said, taking a hold of Bruce’s hand once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm. Mmm, Ohhh. Mmm,” Bruce was moaning again, no break between the noises other than to breathe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good, Bruce. You’re doing so well.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce stuck to the humming noises for the rest of the contraction. “That was closer together,” he said, pressing a hand on his stomach. “Can I have another chip?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They went on like that for about half an hour, and Clark was very impressed at how calm Bruce was. His contractions moved to about a minute apart after that, lasting almost 2 minutes each. Through this, Bruce pretty much needed some part of Clark touching him at all times. He wouldn’t let Clark get more ice chips or a washcloth because they weren’t worth his absence.  Clark just tried his best to do what Bruce asked, guiding him through the pain and offering his hand to hold as much as he could. He was snapped at a few times for being in the wrong position or not holding him tight enough, but Leslie had been right. Bruce cried in apology less than 2 minutes later every time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That routine lasted for another 40 minutes. When Bruce had been in transition for over an hour and his contractions were around 30 seconds apart, everything got a lot worse. Bruce was pretty much in constant pain, his muscles unable to relax in the short period of time he had to rest between contractions. He began to feel very nauseous, and much to both his and Clark’s dismay, threw up three times in 20 minutes. The frustration of still being in labor, his physical exhaustion, and the pain kept him almost in a constant state of tears. Clark stayed with him, just trying to soothe him the entire time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both of them were mentally exhausted. It was the middle of the night now, and neither of them had gotten any sleep for far too long. Clark didn’t need near as much sleep as Bruce did on a regular basis, but the stress of seeing his partner in so much pain had worn him down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not as much as labor had worn Bruce down, though. Clark couldn’t imagine how ridiculously difficult this whole process must have been for Bruce to endure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few more contractions came and went, then finally, after 17 hours of labor and 2 brutal hours of transition, Bruce turned to Clark with a determined look in his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I feel it,” he panted. “He’s ready. I need to push.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark gave his hand a squeeze. “Don’t yet, love. I have to get Leslie. I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce’s body was tense and Clark desperately wanted not to have to leave him. He opened the door and yelled for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leslie?” He called. She came around the corner about 20 feet away from the door, two plastic packages in her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scrub up,” she said. “I can tell he’s ready by your inflection and the look on your face.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her and Clark entered the room again, staying away from Bruce only long enough to pull on and fasten pale yellow scrubs over their clothes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Bruce,” Leslie said. “Ready to have a baby?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was incredibly grateful for her calm demeanor. She didn’t flinch at Bruce’s cries of pain and anguish, and handled herself very professionally and confidently, even though Clark was sure she was just as nervous as he was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce had already been through so much, but this part was bound to be the worst. They had talked about it before, Bruce knew that he wouldn’t be getting any help from the baby’s inflexible body, but it didn’t make it any less daunting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark lifted Bruce up again, gently sliding his body down until he was in the correct position. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she said, patting Bruce’s ankles. “Clark is going to slide in behind you, Bruce. That way you can lean back on him in between pushes and you can hold his hands while you work to get your son out, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded, and whimpered a little. Clark could tell he was terrified. He had been so confident throughout the pregnancy, but the unanticipated pain and length of his labor had thrown him off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m right here,” Clark whispered calmly into Bruce’s ear. “You can do this, Bruce. You’re so strong. So so strong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce’s contractions were waning slightly as his body prepared to expel the baby, but were still strong enough that he didn’t react to Leslie’s fingers inside him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s good,” she said, quietly. “I just need a few more things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stood, removing her gloves and bringing a few items over to the foot of the bed. The screen with the baby’s heartbeat was right next to her, still sounding as strong as before. Still fast, but strong. She had brought a sort of bench to replace the foot of the bed that she could not use.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark hadn’t realized how awkward an angle their baby would be emerging from, and was grateful that Leslie had known better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She covered the surface below Bruce’s feet in a sterile sort of blanket, and took her seat on a rolling stool. She snapped on a new pair of gloves, and nodded to Clark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce,” he said gently, leaning in to grasp Bruce’s hands and whisper in his ear. “Leslie says you’re ready to go, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Bruce,” Leslie said loudly over his exposed lower body. “When you feel the next contraction start, I need you to give me a big push. Tuck your chin into your chest, and let your body do what it wants to do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded. He looked up at Clark, and drew strength from the blue eyes gazing back at him. When he felt the familiar tug of the contraction, he obeyed Leslie’s orders. The force of the push lifted his torso off of Clark’s for a few moments. Leslie was counting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Okay, deep breath out, deep breath in and go again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce exhaled, and drew in a breath. Chin to chest, he pushed with all of his strength.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahh, Clark,” he breathed, falling back on his fiancé as the contraction waned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was so good, Bruce,” Clark encouraged. Leslie agreed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Much too soon, the tightness was back and Bruce was pushing again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good, 2, 3, 4, 5…” Leslie counted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the first two pushes, Bruce had not made any noise. By the last of the third however, he couldn’t hold it in and let out a sort of yelp of pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hurts! Oh fuck!” He said quickly, still pushing as hard as he could. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...10. Breathe and go again,” Leslie commanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce did it. Clark felt so unsure of himself, holding onto Bruce’s hands as he squeezed and pushed. Once the ten was over, Bruce fell back again, looking up at Clark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Feels like...grinding..” he panted. “Like there’s not enough room.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark met his gaze, letting go of one of Bruce’s hands to wipe a sweaty strand of hair out his partner’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know it hurts,” Clark said. “But Bruce you’re doing so well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark knew that he was helping Bruce as soon as the next contraction started. Bruce clawed desperately for Clark’s hand, pushing as soon as he had it in his grip again. He pushed silently for ten, breathed and began to push again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” He yelled as he fell back again, looking up at Clark. “I can’t anymore, Clark, I can’t do it. I can’t. Please. I can’t do it anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark didn’t let go of his hand this time, but leaned down and pressed a gentle and tender kiss to Bruce’s forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes you can,” he said. “You’re doing it right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie looked up over the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes you are, Bruce,” she said, encouragingly. “The grinding you felt was his head passing through your cervix. That’s one hard part over. It’s slow going, but he’s coming.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce pushed in that pattern for 15 minutes or so before Leslie concluded that she didn’t think they had enough gravity in the position they were in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clark, I can’t move,” Bruce said. “I can't, he's right between my legs and I can’t move.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark kissed his forehead again, and let go of his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll help you love,” he soothed. “We’re just going to move to the end of the bed so you can kneel. Leslie is setting it up right now. You can do this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie had left the room, and she came back with Alfred in tow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark felt second hand embarrassment for Bruce, knowing that the hospital gown did not cover his lower half at all. Alfred did not look at Bruce until he was at the head of the bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Master Bruce,” he smiled gently. “Look at you. You’re so close to having your son.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred touched his face gently, and Clark saw Bruce lean into the touch. The trust between the two of them rivaled the trust he and Bruce shared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your parents,” he said. “They would be so incredibly proud of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce choked back a sob as Alfred spoke, and Clark could see tears forming in Alfred’s eyes as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dr. Thompkins says it’s getting difficult,” he continued. “I know you can do it, Master Bruce. And if you get to a point where you can’t find it in yourself to do it, draw strength from knowing that your parents are cheering for you from wherever they are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce sobbed. The butler said nothing, but turned and left the room. A new found strength in him, Bruce was able to sit up with Clark’s help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clark, love,” Bruce said as they stood. Clark smiled. It was a pet name that Bruce hardly ever used; usually it signaled that Bruce wasn't 100% himself, and as long as he wasn't in immense danger, Clark secretly loved it. “Thank you for being here for me. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There is absolutely no need to thank me,” Clark said, pressing another kiss to Bruce’s forehead. “I should be thanking you, for doing all this work to bring our baby boy into the world.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of which,” Bruce winced. “Let’s do that now, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark helped Bruce back onto the bed, this time on his knees. Clark kneeled in front of him, his back to the head of the bed, allowing Bruce to lean most of his weight on him. Leslie was behind Bruce again. This position gave her a clearer view of what was going on, and gravity was definitely more on their side this way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next contraction tore through Bruce’s abdomen, and he pushed as hard as he could. His arms were braced around Clark’s neck, and pressing his chin to his chest enabled him to also lean his head against Clark. Clark could tell immediately that this position was working much better. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ohhh fuuck,” Bruce moaned loudly. “Ohhhh fuck. Ohhh.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie was counting again, and as she reached the end, Bruce drew in another breath. This time he did not put his chin to his chest, opting rather to press his forehead flush against Clark’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s heart felt weak as Bruce literally screamed through the next push. All he could do was allow Bruce to grip his hands tight and lean against him. Leslie was cheering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Bruce, that was excellent! That was the shoulders through your cervix. A little longer and he’ll be crowning!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hear that?” Clark whispered. “You’re almost crowning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was whimpering, his arms still latched tightly around Clark’s neck. Another pull to his abdomen had him pushing with all of his might. He returned to the loud moans, Clark’s name thrown in a few times as he bore down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s coming, Bruce,” Leslie said again. Clark couldn’t see what she was doing, but her hands were working somehow, likely trying her best to stretch Bruce as much as she could. “He’s going to start to crown with the next push.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded and, on Leslie’s instruction, began to push again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Head's out, Bruce!" she called. She resumed counting, and instructed him to breathe and go again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the most part he kept eye contact with Clark, until the last two seconds of the count when he threw his head back in pain, a deep guttural moan erupting from his lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great work, Bruce!” Leslie yelled. Bruce relaxed into Clark as the baby slipped from his body. “I have her. She’s here. I know you want to look, Clark, but I need you to keep Bruce supported for a minute."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She?” Bruce asked. His head was lolling slightly, a small smile across his face. “I thought you said-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce suddenly tensed again, leaning forward onto Clark and moaning again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce?” Clark said, questioning his boyfriend. He was confused--the baby was actually a girl, and now Bruce was in pain again? Clark’s worry was not eased in the slightest by Leslie frantically moving around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred!” She called. “Alfred, I need another blanket!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door opened less than a minute later, and Clark watched as Leslie took their baby to the butler, and accepted a blanket from him. Bruce moaned again as Alfred was leaving, his grip on Clark’s neck increasing again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie turned her attention back to the screen that had been monitoring the baby’s heart rate, and pointed at the lines still being drawn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce,” she said, snapping on a fresh pair of gloves. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re going to have to push again in a minute.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded, as if he accepted this instruction with no question. Clark, however, had </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite a few </span>
  </em>
  <span>questions. He didn't have the chance to ask, however, as he was interrupted by a moan and then Bruce's own explanation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re twins, Clark,” he said into his shoulder. “I...it makes so much sense now. The size of my bump, the rapid growth, the bruising-- ah!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cried out as another contraction rippled through his stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rao,” Clark breathed. “I’m sorry, Bruce.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding?” His fiancé breathed. “That’s twice the miracles, Clark. I honestly kind of wondered, but I didn’t actually think it was true, because we never saw her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie had evidently finished setting up for baby number two, as on the next contraction, she instructed Bruce to push again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark could tell that at this point Bruce </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he was doing. His breathing was routine; exhale, deep inhale, push for 10. Exhale, deep inhale, push for 10.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark could tell he was exhausted, but it was almost as if the news that they were having twins had given Bruce a slight boost in energy. Somehow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good, good. Well done, Bruce,” Leslie was encouraging. “Baby A was tucked away behind her brother, so this one is our big guy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce grunted with the force of the push, pressing his forehead against Clark’s again and crying out as the countdown came to a close.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Head through the cervix,” Leslie noted. “Keep them coming, Bruce. You’re doing excellent.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Bruce groaned. “This hurts so fucking much. Worse than the last one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Bruce Wayne,” Clark said, pressing kisses to Bruce’s cheeks, and swiping his hair back over his head again. “I love you so fucking much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce responded with a scream as he pushed again, digging his nose into Clark’s neck and squeezing his hands. Clark suddenly felt a wet patch of tears on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can do this, sweetheart,” Clark whispered. “You already brought one of them to us, I know you can do it again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another scream followed by a few deep sobs resulted in Leslie’s cheers again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shoulders through! He’s going to crown soon, Bruce, be prepared.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded, but hadn’t anticipated how much more it was going to hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fucking hell!” He panicked. “Why the fuck does that suddenly hurt so much? Holy shit, I can’t do it, Clark. I can't do this <em>again</em>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark knew that Bruce’s heart was absolutely racing. He was panicking, and the contraction was rippling through him. He had gone from a relaxed form of crying, to flat out hyperventilating.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got to, Bruce!” Leslie said, sternly. “You’ve got to get him out, even if it hurts more than before!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” Bruce was sobbing. Clark put a hand on each of Bruce’s cheeks, pulling his forehead back to his own. He pressed a kiss to Bruce’s mouth, and clasped their hands again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look at me,” Clark said. Bruce’s eyes opened, and Clark could see the fear and exhaustion in them. “Look at me. Keep looking at my eyes, and give another push, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded, tears streaming down his face again. Then he took a deep breath, and yelled through the push, squeezing the life out of Clark’s hands again. Leslie suddenly put a hand up behind Bruce’s back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Bruce, don’t push for a minute,” she instructed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce took a few deep breaths, whining at the pain of forcing his body to stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce,” Leslie said sternly. “You have to stop pushing or you’ll tear. He’s bigger than she was.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not," he choked. Clark watched Bruce's face screw up in pain. Tears began streaming more freely down Bruce’s face, and his upper body began to tremble slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Leslie?" Clark asked. "What's happening? Why can’t he push?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damnit,” Clark heard Leslie mutter. “Clark, have him focus on your eyes again. This is going to hurt like hell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is he okay?” Clark asked before letting go of Bruce’s hands. He rested them on his cheeks again, and squared their foreheads as Leslie spoke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Bruce,” she said, a hint of fear in her voice. “This is where it gets the worst. He doesn't have enough room to crown. I need to give you an episiotomy; an incision that will let him pass into the world. That’s why those pushes hurt so badly; he has nowhere to go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce whimpered, and Clark felt sick as he heard Leslie count down from 3.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His whimpers turned to a desperate scream. Clark held onto him, feeling utterly helpless as Leslie dug the scalpel into his skin. He swallowed, forcing himself to take steady breaths as he saw blood dripping down onto the sheet below Bruce. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have to push now, Bruce,” Leslie said. Clark rejoined their hands and tried to focus on the thought of their baby as Bruce screamed through the push. Bruce had tucked his chin back to his chest, and Clark could see the sheet below them. More blood was flowing now, the baby’s size and inflexibility stretching Bruce impossibly wide. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce barely looked like himself at that point. Agony was etched across his face, sweat and tears streaming down his cheeks as he sobbed his way through another contraction. He had turned very pale, and for the first time that whole day, Clark began to feel a panic rising in him that he couldn’t suppress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Push again, Bruce,” Leslie said, the uncertainty definitely present in her voice now, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce did, the agony tearing through him again. Clark saw more blood dripping steadily onto the platform. He leaned in to his fiancé, whispering words of encouragement he wasn't even certain Bruce could hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His head is out, he’ll need to give me one more and you’ll have him,” Leslie said. Her gloves were covered in blood as well. “Clark, I need you to take off your scrubs and your shirt between this push and the next.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark didn’t question and did as he was told. Bruce leaned his head into Clark’s chest. He was so tired, and still so pale. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, push now, Bruce,” Leslie instructed. Clark gripped Bruce’s hands, who squeezed them tightly as he pushed with the last of his strength, a final agonizing scream leaving his lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As much as Clark wanted to see their second baby, his eyes were too focused on Bruce’s. They were just barely open, the colour stripped of his face. Clark didn’t know about the baby; he hadn’t cried yet, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> know that Bruce definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>okay. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He looks like he’s going to pass out,” Clark said, his voice shaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He is,” Leslie said, matter of factly. Clark could hear what sounded like some sort of suction, and the shifting of a towel as Leslie quickly cleaned their son. Moments later, a high-pitched and very unhappy cry echoed throughout the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There we go, darling,” she cooed. “This is him, now, and he looks perfect, Clark. But Bruce isn’t in the clear yet. I need you to keep him awake for another minute. He needs to deliver the afterbirth.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She instructed Bruce to give a small push, and with a whimper and a slow exhale, he did. Then he fell forward onto Clark’s chest, unconscious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s out,” Clark said, panic positively dripping from his voice. "Leslie, he's unconscious!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He's done now,” Leslie said. “We need him to lay down. I need to stop the bleeding from the incision. It’s pretty deep and he lost a lot of blood.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark very gently maneuvered so that he was out from under his fiancé, and Bruce was laying on his back. He hadn’t even glanced at the second baby, and was taken aback when Leslie pressed him against Clark’s bare chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold your first born,” she said. “Take this guy out to see Alfred and his sister. Get him two blankets, and have Alfred hold him. She needs to be in your arms for a bit, though; your body heat will keep her warmer than the blankets will, and she was tiny.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to-” he started, hesitant to leave Bruce unconscious as he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go, Clark,” Leslie looked at him sternly. “ It’s not going to be pretty in here, the blanket I had prepped for this baby is soaked with blood, and Bruce is going to bleed out if I don’t fix this. He will be okay, I've got him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded, and with one last glance at Bruce’s pale frame, he took his newborn son into the hallway, the door swinging shut behind him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>BAM. TWO BABIES!</p><p>I've never written this particular cliché, so this was fun. Also, a couple of you totallllllyyyy called that Bruce was having twins before it happened, so good on you.</p><p>Also some 'good parent Alfred Pennyworth' in here because man I love me some Dad!Alfred.</p><p>I hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading and for commenting. I appreciate it so much.</p><p>Laynee</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bruce gets fixed up, and they officially meet their babies :)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Someone commented that the birth was too graphic...sorry? It's in the tags. I hope it wasn't too much for everyone.</p><p>Well, this is pretty much all fluff, no blood or anything really...so...enjoy, I hope.</p><p>As always, I love hearing from you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Alfred was waiting down the hall, a small green bundle in his arms. His face was very pale, and Clark didn't doubt that he had heard Bruce screaming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He needs stitches," Clark said, gently cradling their son tightly. He could hardly focus on him, everything was fuzzy and his ears were ringing. He didn’t register the whimpers of his daughter either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Master Clark," Alfred said. "I can take them both for a second. You need to sit." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She needs me," Clark croaked, gesturing to the baby in Alfred’s arms. "We have to switch. Leslie had no blanket…the blood..." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I have one, right here," he said. "I heard him screaming. You must be terrified."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark reached out and took the green bundle from Alfred, trying to process everything that had just happened. He glanced from his daughter, to Alfred, to his son, and to the floor. He passed the boy over to the butler, and realized he was still crying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you have a towel in the bag?" He asked Alfred, shifting to press the girl closer to his chest. "And do you know where we can get clean water?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred nodded, gesturing to the bag. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think he needs to be cleaned up a bit more," he said. “Can you do that with one hand?” Alfred nodded, retrieved the bag and a wet wipe, then began to rub small and gentle circles onto the boy's back, trying to clean him up. There was still a fair amount of mess on him compared to his sister, and it became clear that it was part of the little boy's discomfort when his sobs turned to whimpers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shhhhh, shhhhh, it's alright," Clark whispered softly, leaning over to his son. "I'm your Daddy, baby boy. And yours too, baby girl. I'm here. Shhh."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The babies’ noises faded slowly, replaced by quick breaths as they both fell asleep. Alfred finished cleaning him up, then wrapped him carefully in the blankets. He pressed him to his own chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark shifted the baby he was holding, so that he and Alfred could get a better look at her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She already had hair, soft, thin, dark brown tousles curling slightly around her forehead. She had small eyes which, in her slumber, were closed to the world, but Clark figured they would be hazel like Bruce's. Her lips were plump and pouty, and Clark and Alfred both chuckled. She really looked like Bruce.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They switched their attention to the other baby, in Alfred’s arms. He was very similar in appearance, however with slightly more weight to him. By no means was he a large baby, though. Clark was in awe at how small they both were. Fragile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I bet it was hard work," Clark cooed at his daughter. "Being brought into the world." His smile faded. "I know it was hard on your other Daddy, but if he sees you, he'll say it was so worth it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not if, when."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie had come around the corner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've stitched up the incision," she said. "He's a little awkwardly bandaged, but the bleeding has stopped. I've got a transfusion going to replace what he's lost, and now that the baby is born, he can be given pain meds. He's on morphine. He's weak right now, and I imagine he's very traumatized, but he's awake."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark's eyes welled with tears of relief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think he needs to see you, Clark," she said. "I'll take her, and Alfred and I can give them both a proper wash. Then we can bring them in to meet Bruce, if he's feeling up to it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded and handed her over to Leslie, turning the corner and heading for the door. He pushed it open cautiously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was laying on the bed on his back, his hands splayed across his slightly deflated abdomen. He looked exhausted, but a bit of colour had returned to his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh my god, Bruce," Clark said, settling into a chair next to the bed, relief rushing over his face. “Hey, sweetheart.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are they okay?" Bruce asked immediately.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They’re perfect," he said, his eyes welling up with tears. "All of their fingers and toes are in check, and they both look like you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I knew it would be twins,” Bruce chuckled weakly. "I fucking knew it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s body didn’t know how to react, laughing and sobbing at the same time. He made a sort of strangled choking noise, and dropped his head to rest against Bruce’s arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why are you crying?" Bruce asked, reaching for Clark's hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," Clark cried. "I felt so helpless when she said there was another baby... and then he was too strong and Leslie had to...and there was blood.. and you fainted.." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sobbed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And you’ve been through so much and you were in so much pain but now I'm the one crying but I was feeling confident and then so suddenly it went down hill and I was so scared that you were going to die…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce squeezed Clark’s hand and, mindful of his IV, raised his hand to touch the side of Clark’s face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m here,” he said. “I’m okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know…” Clark said, sniffling. “And Bruce, our babies are so perfect. Like I can’t believe you </span>
  <em>
    <span>made</span>
  </em>
  <span> them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> made them,” Bruce corrected. “You said it yourself, it takes two to make a baby. Or in our case, two babies.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark kissed Bruce’s forehead, then rested his own head against Bruce’s. They laid there in silence for a while until finally there was a quiet knock on the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” Alfred said, pushing it open slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred,” Bruce said. “Come in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stepped aside, holding the door open as Leslie walked through with two small green bundles in her arms. They could hear small whimpers, and it was clear that the babies were squirming. Alfred had Bruce’s bag, and set it down beside the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re all clean and diapered, and I’m just getting a bottle ready for them down the hall,” she smiled, walking toward the bed. “She didn’t like her bath very much, but in her defense, I woke her up from what was probably a restful sleep in her Daddy’s arms. She’s 5 pounds, 6 ounces, which, though a little small, seems perfectly well and good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once she had reached the bed, Bruce stretched up his arms. Clark smiled, watching Bruce take their first squirming baby from Leslie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He did much better in the bath,” Leslie continued. “Just laid there looking up at Alfred like he was the most curious thing in the world. He is a little bigger, 7 pounds, 6 ounces." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark reached over and took their son from Leslie, relishing in getting to hold him properly for the first time. He sank back down into the chair next to Bruce and showed him as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Master Clark says they look a lot like you, but they both seem to have his…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Eyes,” Bruce said, his own welling with tears. “Clark, she has your eyes. They’re so blue…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark looked down at their daughter and saw that she did, in fact, have crystal blue eyes. Bruce held the small bundle close to his chest, cradling her gently and talking to her quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh hi there, baby girl,” he whispered. “Oh hello. Welcome to the world, sweetie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sniffled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trade?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled, and passed Bruce their son, gently pulling the baby girl back into his own arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes,” Bruce said. “He has them too. Hey little guy. I’m so happy to finally meet you…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sniffled again, and Clark smiled fondly at them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred and Leslie quietly excused themselves, leaving the new family to be alone for a few minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as they were gone, Clark reached over and grabbed the bag Alfred had brought in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of it he pulled one black and one blue onesie. Not recognizing them as ones that he had chosen, and noticing that they each had something written on them, Clark laid the tiny outfits out on the bed. Bruce bit back a laugh, reading the text of the black onesie aloud:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I just spent nine months in the Batcave</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred?” Bruce said, chuckling. “I suppose it’s kind of accurate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark chuckled as well, looking down at the blue one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Daddy is my Superman!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How ironic?” Bruce laughed too. Clark scooped up the blue onesie and walked to a nearby table. He laid his daughter down and unwrapped her, gently slotting her limbs into the sleeves and pulling her back to his chest. Her eyes slipped closed again, and Clark passed her over to Bruce. He took their son and the black onesie and did the same, returning moments later. They sat in relative silence, gazing fondly at their children.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lara,” Bruce whispered, suddenly. “I want to name her Lara Martha Kent-Wayne.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After our mothers,” Clark said tenderly, a soft smile on his face. “And what about him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What we talked about?” Bruce asked. “I think he looks like a Connor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do too,” Clark smiled down at his son. “Connor Jonathan Thomas Kent-Wayne. It’s a mouthful, but I love it, and we’ll honor my birth father by assigning him his Kryptonian name as well: Kon-El.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span>"I love you so much, Superman,” Bruce said suddenly. He looked back and forth between their babies, then looked up at Clark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled at Bruce.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, Batman, and our little baby birds."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>He pressed his hand against Bruce's cheek, and felt him relax into it, at peace with his newborn babies and his fiancé by his side.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for stopping by!</p><p>Laynee</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just some fluff. I promise I'll finish this fic. I'm sorry for the hiatus.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Leslie insisted that Bruce and the babies stay in the lab for the rest of the day, at least, so Clark and Alfred opted to make a trip back to the manor while Bruce slept.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been a very long day and night, and Clark knew that Bruce needed nothing more than the peace and quiet their absence would offer, although he doubted Bruce would sleep for long.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie doted on both of their children, but Clark recognized her special attention to Lara. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t shake his own concern for her; Connor had been the expected size, but sweet little Lara had been the tiniest surprise. Her body was fragile in Clark’s arms; he had never been so cautious holding anything in his life, worried he might accidentally hurt her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have to trust yourself,” Leslie had told him, pulling Lara back from Clark’s shaking hands. “You aren’t going to hurt her. Besides, even if you did squeeze a little too tight, or accidentally pull a little too hard on one of her fingers or toes--which you won’t--both Connor and Lara can take it. They’re your kids, remember? Half-Kryptonian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark had nodded at that, feeling guilty as a sense of relief still washed over him as Leslie pulled his daughter away. He loved looking at her, but holding her would take some time to adjust to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go with Alfred, Clark,” she continued. “Bruce is already out like a light, and if all goes well, these two will be following suit very quickly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled gently at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How can we ever thank you for this, Leslie?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie smiled down at Lara in her arms and glanced over at Connor who was squirming in his swaddle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said it before, the honour of bringing them into the world...well, that’s enough for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred and Clark were fairly quiet for the majority of the ride to the manor, but as soon as they pulled into the entrance to the drive, Clark remembered that he had news to share with his fiance’s butler.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred,” Clark said. “I…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You proposed to him,” Alfred said. “I was waiting for you to say something. I saw the ring. Was it in the nursery, as you had planned?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. Bruce’s labour kind of spoiled that plan. I ended up half-assing it while he was having a contraction.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred, to Clark’s surprise, chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You two...can't do anything conventionally, can you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, sir,” Clark smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stayed quiet for a moment as Alfred pulled up to the front door. Clark had his hand on the door latch when Alfred stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. He was startled to see tears in the old butler’s eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Master Clark,” he said, softly. “You...you make him the happiest I’ve ever seen him. Even as a child when his parents were around, his eyes never shined quite like they do when he’s with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was speechless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, for giving him this life. For showing him that he can have love and laughter and family, </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> outside of his vigilantism… he does it for good, I know, but nobody deserves to be that lonely. Especially not a hero like Bruce.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce is the best thing that has ever happened to me,” Clark returned. “I promise, Alfred, that I will take care of him, Lara, and Connor. I will always do everything in my power to keep them safe and happy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t doubt you will, Master Clark,” Alfred nodded, then he chuckled. “Now, how do you think Master Bruce would react if we brought him </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> your most atrocious flannels?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ultimately, the two of them decided it would be best to just bring Bruce some of Clark’s biggest tees and sweaters. A large portion of Bruce’s additional middle would have receded, at least enough that he could wiggle into his favourites. They also ventured into the nursery, sorting through piles and piles of baby clothes, trying their best to find any sort of jumper small enough to better fit Lara. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they had skimmed over pretty much everything that Clark had ordered, they had a few options picked out. Alfred tucked them into another bag, followed by a few thicker blankets, a nursing blanket, and two of the softest plush animals Clark had ever held in his life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I took the liberty of adding those myself,” Alfred said, smiling down at the green bunny nearly the size of Clark’s forearm. He himself was holding a very pale blush coloured pig, similar in size.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“These are going to be almost as big as Connor,” Clark laughed. Alfred smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And larger than little Lara. That was exactly what I had in mind. I’m just glad I couldn't decide which one to get between two of them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they returned to the clinic, just over two hours had passed. Clark was unsurprised to find that Bruce was wide awake again. Leslie met them at the door and closed it behind her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I got him to sleep for about an hour and a half,” she shrugged. “He says he doesn’t really sleep long, even on a normal day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred scoffed. “The understatement of the year.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce doesn’t really sleep all that much, no,” Clark shook his head. “It’s part of being a vigilante I guess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I figured. His stitches are still secure, I took the liberty of checking that while the two of you were gone. The colour is really starting to return to his face already, so he should make a pretty quick recovery. For all that that man’s body had been through, it’s a wonder he ever recovers from anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s face twisted in discomfort at the thought, and Leslie flashed him a quick apologetic look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s sitting up now. Seems to be feeling alright as well. The twins are sleeping in cots next to his. He won’t let me take them to another room, and they won’t let me separate them by more than a few feet. Funny how twins are like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s discomfort shifted to a soft look of wonder. He still couldn’t believe that he and Bruce were parents. To twins, nonetheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look like you’re gonna drop there, Clark,” Leslie chuckled lightly. “You okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great,” Clark breathed. “So, they’re all in there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie nodded and reached behind her. She pushed her back against the door and gestured for Clark and Alfred to enter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce only looked at them very briefly, his left hand outstretched over the edge of and into Connor’s cot. As Clark approached, he noticed that the little boy had latched his hand onto Bruce’s thumb.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He won’t let me go,” Bruce beamed. Clark recognized the sparkle in Bruce’s eye that Alfred had mentioned. He had never looked so gorgeous as he did, dishevelled hair and sleep-deprived eyes, with a smile that rivalled the brightness of the sun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you comfortable?” Clark asked, smiling gently and sinking onto the edge of Bruce’s bed. “You can pull away from him, you know, if you need to move.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would I ever want to?” Bruce asked, monotonously as he continued to stare at his son. He chuckled. “Besides, I don’t know if I actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> pull away.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s already besting you, Bruce?” Leslie chuckled. “How will you ever teach him to spar if he’s constantly flattening you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t forget, I taught his father,” Bruce smiled. “I can still get my fair share of hits on Clark, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark leaned in and gently kissed Bruce’s forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not right now you can’t,” he chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t need more rest?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Positive,” Bruce said. “You probably need some though. You’ve been up longer than me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Clark said. “But I didn’t give birth. And besides, I don’t need nearly as much sleep as you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, however, Clark yawned. Shortly after, Bruce followed suit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred and I could likely use some rest too,” Leslie smiled. “There are a couple of extra rooms up the hall. Maybe we’ll head that way and you two can stay in here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need to sleep,” Bruce said, yawning again. “I’m just fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smirked and nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door clicked shut a moment later, and Clark curled himself around Bruce's figure. They both stared down at the babies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>"They're amazing, aren't they?" Bruce said, yawning once more.</p><p> </p><p>"They are," Clark agreed, pulling Bruce gently back toward his torso. "Sleep Bruce. Whatever you say, you need it."</p><p> </p><p>"No, I don't," Bruce insisted, but Clark felt the change in weight as his fiance's whole body relaxed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And if less than 10 minutes later Bruce was asleep on his chest, well, Clark would never say a word.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed it!</p><p>-Laynee</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clark and Bruce take their babies home.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pure. Fluff. Honestly.</p><p>Not much plot is advanced in this chapter, and I'm not even ashamed. I needed some Bruce/Clark fluff with their little guys, and I decided to be self-indulgent. I hope you enjoy it anyway.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Clark and Bruce ended up sleeping the rest of the day away, and for most of the following night as well, waking only a few times for Bruce to feed and comfort the tiny infants next to them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie and Alfred bustled about around them, Leslie mostly just packing up all of the equipment she had moved from the basement room in order to return her clinic to a semblance of normal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred insisted on helping her as much as possible, and when it wasn’t, he was busy packing and repacking Bruce’s belongings. A few times throughout the following day, he returned to the manor by himself, insisting that he just had to ensure everything was ready.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce had joked that he knew already that it wasn’t, and he had a point; Clark had assembled and decorated the nursery for </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>baby, not twins. Not that they were complaining, especially when Alfred returned later, explaining that he had purchased and set-up a larger </span>
  <em>
    <span>double</span>
  </em>
  <span> crib, and moved the single one to the cave. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Con and Lara won’t be spending much time in the cave,” Clark laughed, looking fondly over their sleeping forms. Alfred raised an eyebrow, and Bruce smacked his arm playfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The hell they won’t,” he said, almost as if offended by Clark’s presumption. “You think I’m just going to sit still and look pretty while I heal? Ha! You’re lucky I’ve even stayed </span>
  <em>
    <span>here </span>
  </em>
  <span>this long. I’m glad we’re going home tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, Bruce swung his legs off of the bed and stood up, wincing audibly at the pull on his stitches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he muttered. Clark moved to help him, while Alfred </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually laughed at him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Master Bruce,” he smiled. “Sometimes you are quite something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce glared at him as he adjusted to standing, then Alfred left the room so that Bruce could dress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While he was struggling to put on a shirt, Lara woke up suddenly. Clark noticed, but said nothing, watching as she simply looked around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nudged Bruce as soon as he had successfully pulled the fabric over his head. Bruce gazed down at her as well, holding back a laugh as her eyes darted around the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce walked slowly to the edge of her bassinet. As soon as he was in her line of vision, she focused on him instead, frowning slightly and making little squeaking noises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi, baby girl,” Bruce cooed, carefully sliding his hand beneath her body and pulling her to his chest. Clark’s heartbeat picked up, feeling positively smitten at the sight of his fiancé and their daughter. “Hey you, are you awake now? So curious, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She yawned broadly, letting out another tiny squeak that left Bruce’s eyes shining. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s already got the makings of a little detective,” Bruce said, his voice so full of fondness that Clark thought he might burst.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someone’s gonna be Daddy’s little girl,” Clark chuckled, approaching Bruce and laying a hand gently on the small of his back. “She’s just so tiny, B.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She is,” Bruce said, softly. “But she’s okay. She’s got </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> in her, so she’s bound to be resilient, in body </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark kissed Bruce’s cheek, but was distracted by a soft and shaky cry that came from the other bassinet. Both of them chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someone’s jealous,” Bruce said. Clark stepped to where Connor was sleeping and lifted him up into his arms. He didn’t hold him in a cradle, but rather positioned him upright, his hand pressed gently against the back of his head to support his neck. He turned around so that Bruce could see his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi Connor!” Bruce cooed. “Hi buddy! How was your sleep?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughed as Con just stared blankly at him, his little tufts of curls sticking out wildly around his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, he looks so much like you already Clark. He’s like a little clone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark chuckled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seriously,” Bruce continued. “I’ve seen pictures of you when you were a baby, Clark, and I’m telling you he’s practically identical.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you’re right, I’m sure Ma will agree with you,” Clark said. “Speaking of which, I guess I should probably call her!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bruce said. “We said we’d send a plane for her. That still stands. I’m kind of surprised you haven’t already told her, given our little surprise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked down at the baby in his arms, who had fallen back asleep against his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, things didn’t go as smoothly as we might have hoped. I was too worried about you at first, and well...now I guess I’m still adjusting to the idea of two kids.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s going to freak out, isn’t she?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was right. When Leslie had returned, Clark felt okay leaving Bruce alone with her and the babies. He stepped out of the room and walked up the hall, dialing the farm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ma?” he asked, as soon as she had picked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clark?” She replied. “What’s going on? Is the baby here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark laughed and shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’d you know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had to pause for a moment as Martha celebrated, clapping and cheering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Boy or girl?” She asked excitedly, returning to the phone. Clark smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Both.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was met with silence on the other end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce had twins, Ma,” Clark confirmed, chuckling softly to himself as she began to freak out again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Twins?! How could you not tell me?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t know,” he said, smiling. “I won’t give you too many details, but the whole process of their arrival wasn’t exactly normal. There were a lot of complications.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martha gasped on the other end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But Bruce is okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. He’s probably going to be a little traumatized, as much as he’ll say he isn’t, but he’s okay now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about you?” Martha asked. “Everyone tends to focus on the mother after a baby is born, but sometimes it can be just as strange and difficult for the father.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m okay. I was pretty freaked out when it was happening; Bruce’s doctor had me pretty involved the whole time, which is good, but let’s just say I was relieved when it was all over.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s understandable, sweetie. So...I have to ask. What are their names?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled, and shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you want to know their names, you’re going to have to get on the plane and come to Gotham. Alfred will send one whenever you’re available.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m available tonight,” she said. Clark could hear the smile behind her words, and grinned himself. He was glad that he could make his mother happy like this--after his father had been killed; well, Martha hadn’t ever been quite the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Grandma</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said jokingly, Martha scoffing on the other end. “Alfred will call you with more details. I better go back and be with Bruce though, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, you better,” she said happily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ma?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martha was quiet for a second. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, Clark.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Settling the twins into the manor was not as difficult as Clark anticipated it might be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was about as freaked out as was expected, but he did let Clark do most of the work, much to his relief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred had picked out a beautiful double crib, the pads side by side and separated only by a small ledge. It looked as though Connor and Lara would be able to see each other while they went to sleep, which Leslie noted was very helpful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They might go down easier,” she had said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce had spent the majority of the evening in the nursery with the babies, trading off which one he was holding while rocking in the glider. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark and Alfred took this time to finish a few more things in the manor that they had not yet gotten to, including baby-proofing of all of the commonly used rooms. Alfred had purchased </span>
  <em>
    <span>hundreds</span>
  </em>
  <span> of corner guards, insisting on installing them on every single coffee and side table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark even eventually, albeit reluctantly, ventured down to the cave to install some safety measures there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They won’t be walking for a very long time,” Bruce had joked, rolling his eyes at the determination displayed by his fiancé and father figure, but nonetheless grateful for their efforts. He looked tired, and Clark could not blame him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Around 9 in the evening, Leslie came into the nursery with a final bottle before they went to bed, handing one off to Bruce and one to Clark. Clark hesitated, and Leslie flashed him a reassuring smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce might be smitten enough with them now to not mind feeding both, but that will unfortunately get old eventually. Clark, you need to start trusting yourself with them. You aren’t going to break them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce smiled softly at Clark as he reached into Lara’s crib, Leslie guiding him on how to properly position her to accept a bottle. It was obvious that Clark was still afraid, his motions so slow and gentle that it seemed unnatural.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trust yourself, sweetheart,” Bruce said as Leslie laid Connor in his lap. “You’re not going to hurt her, even if she is tiny. Has she squeezed your finger yet? She’s strong as can be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce expertly put the bottle in Connor’s mouth, their son greedily drinking in the formula. Lara was restless in Clark’s arms as Leslie helped him do the same. Once she had settled and was suckling happily, Clark let out a sigh of relief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Reach your pinky finger out,” Leslie said, nodding toward his hand. Lara’s tiny fist was resting at her side, right above where Clark’s hand was holding her bum. He lifted his finger and nudged slightly at her fist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She opened her fingers immediately, wrapping them delicately around Clark’s. It was gentle at first, but as her hand squeezed back into a fist, Clark’s eyes widened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rao,” he said, looking up at Bruce and Leslie. He felt tears forming in his eyes. “She is strong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to be Daddy’s little girl,” he joked. “But not necessarily just to me. She’s got you wrapped around her finger now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” Clark smirked. “She’s kind of wrapped around mine at the moment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce rolled his eyes and looked back to Connor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s so beautiful,” he said, eyes shining again. “I still just can’t get over how much he looks like you. I <em>am </em>smitten right now, that's for sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you are,” Clark said. “I am too. They’re so amazing. How did we make them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leslie cleared her throat, and both Clark and Bruce laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve seen and heard enough, you don’t have to answer that Bruce.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martha was downstairs when Clark and Bruce awoke the following morning, but neither her nor Alfred had come in to get the twins. Leslie had left after they had been put to sleep, promising to stay near a phone in case they needed anything, but thus far, they had been okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins woke them up 4 times during the night; Bruce had ended up sleeping in the glider, too afraid to leave the room. Clark stayed in their bed, but his super hearing made it impossible for him to sleep through their cries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were tired, but incredibly content as they walked into the lounge holding a baby each. Bruce had Connor held up against his shoulder, and Clark was cradling Lara.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ma,” he said, smiling brightly at Martha. She stood immediately, cooing softly at the sight of her grandchildren.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my goodness! Clark, hi…Bruce...oh my gosh. How are you? How are they? Oh, can I hold them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They chuckled at her joyful reaction, and Bruce offered Connor first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s a bit bigger than she is,” he said, watching fondly as she took him in her arms. “They both look like Clark, in my opinion, but Connor does especially.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Connor?” Martha smiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t told Ma their names yet,” Clark said. Bruce had frowned, but smiled as soon as he had clarified.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, okay,” he said. “Well, Martha, this little guy is Connor Kent-Wayne, middle names Thomas and Jonathan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martha choked a little as she looked down at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce is right, Clark. He looks just like you did so many years ago.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark sat down next to his mother on the couch, and held Lara slightly away from his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And this, Ma, is little Lara Martha.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonathan hadn’t quite been enough to put her over the edge, but knowing both of her son’s children were named after her and her late husband did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m so honoured, Clark, Bruce,” she sobbed. “They’re so beautiful. You did so well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martha spent the majority of the morning gushing over the babies, and talking with Alfred, giving Clark and Bruce some time to spend alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They showered together, Bruce having to be mindful of his stitches. Clark helped him, and as soon as they had finished they laid together on the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe this, really,” Bruce said. “If you had asked me two years ago whether or not I’d be here, I would have said that there was no way in hell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled, rubbing his thumb over Bruce’s cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” he said. “I was just some superhero pining for his best friend. I never would have imagined this, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me neither,” Bruce said. “But I’m already exhausted. Leslie’s right, I am going to need your help. A lot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They nuzzled closer to each other.</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Clark,” Bruce said quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For giving me this life. For giving me our children. For loving me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark pressed his cheek against Bruce’s now, wanting nothing more than to be as close as possible to his fiancé.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t thank me,” he said. “It’s honestly the easiest thing in the world. Besides, you did all of the work. I should be thanking you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A very loud, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very unhappy</span>
  </em>
  <span> cry from downstairs pulled them out of their moment. They rolled off the bed, chuckling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Duty calls,” Clark said, elbowing Bruce lightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They locked their hands together, and headed downstairs.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just the epilogue now. I'll write and release it hopefully very soon.</p><p>Thanks for reading and commenting. It means the world.</p><p>-Laynee</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's been four years since the twins were born. What could be next?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for all of your support. Your kudos and comments mean so much to me, and even though I don't reply to everyone, I read and appreciate every single one of you. Seriously. Thank you so much.</p><p>Nice little epilogue for you. Ha. Enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em>FOUR YEARS LATER</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark and Bruce shared a knowing glance at the thundering of little feet running down the stairs and toward the kitchen. Alfred’s back was to them, preparing two plates of pancakes for the excited toddlers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Papa! Daddy!” Lara yelled at the top of her lungs, running into the kitchen much too fast for an average child. Connor came in behind her, giggling wildly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark opened his arms as Lara crashed into him, scooping her up and pressing sloppy kisses to her cheeks. She screamed and giggled, trying to worm her way out of Clark’s grip, but was unsuccessful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor ran at Clark as well, latching himself onto his leg and laughing as he tugged at Clark’s free hand. Clark ruffled Connor’s hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, troublemakers,” Bruce said, smiling at the sight of his husband and children.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mornin’ Daddy!” they both said in unison. They shared a look as Clark set Lara on her feet, then burst into giggles when they realized they had said the same thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled broadly at Bruce, then gestured for them to climb up on their chairs as Alfred set their breakfast in front of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you’ll excuse me, Master Connor, Little Miss Lara, I believe I have rucksacks to pack.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lara and Connor thanked him for their breakfast, then Connor turned to Bruce.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Daddy, what’s a rucksack?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what Alfred calls a </span>
  <em>
    <span>backpack</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said, fondly. “He’s British, right Con? We’ve mentioned that before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s why he talks so serious,” Lara said, taking a bite. “He’s got an ax-int.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lara is right, he has an </span>
  <em>
    <span>accent</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Clark said, enunciating the word in the hopes that Lara would learn it. She just shrugged and kept eating.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So we’re going to school again?” Connor asked, excitedly. It had only been a week, but the twins already loved everything about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Bruce replied. “Remember what we told you, though. You did so well last week, I bet you can do it again this week.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No telling,” Lara said, bluntly. “No telling, and no running.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Clark said, smiling. “I had to do it when I was little, so I believe that you can do it too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both nodded, shoving the last of their breakfast in their mouths and jumping from the table. They immediately ran to their parents, Lara to Clark and Connor to Bruce, giving a hug and a kiss before switching places.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfie!” Connor yelled as they ran out of the room in search of the butler. “Are you gonna take us in the car?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their voices faded as Clark gathered their dishes. He kissed Bruce’s forehead, and grabbed his own bag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I better head out too,” he said. “Perry was on my case all last week for being late. I shouldn’t keep it up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce smiled and walked with Clark to the door. They both waved to their children in the now passing car and shared one last kiss before he took off for Metropolis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Clark had disappeared behind the clouds, Bruce subconsciously rested a hand on his abdomen, coughing slightly as the smell of cooling bacon wafted down the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He went upstairs immediately, deciding that now was as good a time as any, given that he had a few minutes to himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, his stomach relaxed as soon as he was far enough away from the kitchen. He went to the wardrobe, rummaging through the bottom until he found a small paper bag he had brought home a few days prior.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swallowed thickly, and pulled out three boxes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he muttered to himself. “I guess I better find out for sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark was at the Planet when his watch buzzed loudly, a notification forwarded from the Batcave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All available members report to Gotham City Hall. Joker-issued bomb threat. Multiple suspected targets.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, when Clark turned his gaze to one of the many monitors on the wall of the Planet’s office he was greeted by a painted face, sneering and bragging about his criminal prowess and daring the Justice League to come intervene.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark sighed, sharing a very knowing look with Lois before rising to his feet and speed walking to the stairwell. He stripped his civilian clothes as he descended, counting on the Joker’s media takeover to distract everyone in the building.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took a back exit into an abandoned alley. He pulled off his glasses, tucking them neatly into his cape and kicking off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana and Bruce were already on scene when he arrived, Barry speeding in shortly after. A crowd had formed in front of the City Hall, Joker’s threat streaming on the side of the building for the public to see.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark spotted a few of Gotham’s finest; Commissioner Gordon, Montoya, Bullock, Crowe, and a few other squadrons that Clark did not recognize. He and Barry approached their location, Bruce and Diana already in deep conversation with them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We haven’t been able to confirm any locations yet,” Gordon was saying, his voice full of concern. “But he’s told us how many--we’re looking at three explosives, all armed."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce turned and looked at Clark in a way that he didn’t quite know how to read. “Aquaman hasn’t responded,” he said, returning his gaze to the officers around them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The five of us can handle it,” Victor said as he descended into the conversation. The sound of clanking metal carried when he landed heavy on the concrete.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark didn’t say anything, but shot up into the sky, focusing on the buildings below him and panning his x-ray vision.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He spotted them relatively quickly, a triangular formation surrounding the City Hall. His breath caught harshly in his throat when he identified the third building.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s one in the Clocktower, and one in the Novick Tunnel,” Clark said as he returned. He swallowed thickly and half turned to Bruce. “And there’s one at Gotham Academy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark watched as the colour drained from Bruce’s exposed cheeks and chin, the other members of the league sharing knowing glances.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Batman and I will go to the school,” Clark said. “I can prioritize getting all of the children out of there as quickly as possible while he disarms the bomb.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cyborg, do you think you can infiltrate the tech?” Bruce added, brushing his hand against his abdomen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Victor nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll fly over to the tunnel. I can handle one myself. Wonder Woman and Flash can head to the Clocktower.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one really finalized the decision, but they all took off immediately, Bruce latching himself into Clark’s shoulders as he kicked off into the sky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clark…” he croaked into his ear. Clark could hear the absolute panic in his voice, a tone he had hidden so well in front of the other heroes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Clark said. “We’ll get them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were relieved to see that the teachers were already evacuating their students; obviously GCPD had called and informed them of Clark’s discovery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark took Bruce straight to the bomb, nestled in the corner of the gymnasium’s equipment room. Bruce took a moment to steady himself, looking vaguely ill for a few moments.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go, Clark,” he said, urgently, recovering and falling immediately to his knees. “Make sure everyone is out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark went.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t really know where to start, so he began with the closest classrooms, zipping in and out and checking every single door to ensure that nobody was left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t find anyone until he reached the last room on the second floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was horrified to see that it was Lara and her teacher, huddled in a corner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Connor?” she was asking. “Daddy said not to run, but everyone was running!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sweetie,” the teacher was saying gently. “Lara, you and I won’t run if you don’t want to, but we need to go outside. Connor is already there, with Mr. Banks and your other friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I might be able to help out, Ma’am,” Clark said, smiling softly at the little girl in the corner. Lara looked up, her eyes widening in surprise and washing over with relief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Papa!” She yelled, running toward him before he could say anything. She stopped right in front of him suddenly, and Clark was certain she had looked like a blur and nothing more to the teacher, who was now standing with her mouth agape.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean…” Lara said, wringing her hands and looking a little panicked. “I mean...Superman!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark scooped Lara up into his arms, pressing a kiss to her cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, love,” Clark said, reassuring her after her slip up. “I’m sure that Miss Evans will be able to keep a secret, Lar. Don’t worry. Let me take you outside, okay? I have to go help Da-, er- Batman, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lara nodded, and Clark gestured for Miss Evans to step closer. He shifted Lara so that she was sitting in his right elbow, and wrapped his arm protectively around the teacher’s waist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling charmingly. “Hold on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A second later, they were in the parking lot up the road, Lara and Miss Evans delivered safely with the rest of the school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark winked at Connor as he put Lara next to him, his two toddlers embracing readily. Then he took off back toward the school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce had removed the cover of the bomb, and was pulling at wires inside with one hand. Clark noticed the other was pressed to the Kevlar covering his navel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Victor disarmed his bomb,” Bruce muttered, not breaking his concentration. “He’s on his way to help Diana and Barry. I’m almost done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What can I do?” Clark said, kneeling down next to his husband. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me that at least two of my children are safe,” Bruce said, softly. He glanced very quickly at Clark, but not for more than a moment. Just enough to see him nod his head, before realization dawned on him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark’s eyes widened, and Bruce couldn’t help but smile slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce?” Clark said. “Are you serious?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce pulled gently on a yellow wire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s talk when I’m not disarming a bomb.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With six minutes left on its timer, Bruce broke the connection on the final wire, sagging with relief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t cut it that close, this time, but there’s always the chance that disarming it won’t work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce’s commlink crackled in his ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Status?” Victor asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Done,” Bruce said. “You?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Done,” he replied. “The bomb squad wants you here to explain the bomb's exact location, so that they can properly dispose of it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be there shortly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce stood up, and before he could say anything, Clark had him wrapped in a secure hug. When he pulled away, Bruce pulled the cowl off, a small smile on his lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been suspicious for a few weeks now, to be honest, but I took three tests this morning to be sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark laughed aloud, pulling Bruce in for another hug and spinning him around. When he put him down again, he pressed a firm kiss to his husband’s lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, I can’t believe this,” Clark said. He kissed him again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me neither,” Bruce said, chuckling softly. “I didn’t expect it...but I’m really happy. Are you happy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Am I happy? I’m fucking ecstatic, B! This is...this is so amazing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Three kids,” Bruce said. “That’s a lot of kids.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At least now we know we can do it. How far in do you think you are?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce pulled Clark’s arms around his waist again, gripping with all of his strength.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Based on the way the bacon flipped my stomach this morning, I’d say probably just under two months.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clark laughed in disbelief again, the noise musical in Bruce’s ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rao, I fucking love you, B,” he said. “We have more to talk about, but we probably should get back to the others.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you maybe go a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit slower</span>
  </em>
  <span> this time?” He said, wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughed and nodded back, kissing Bruce’s nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Of course,” he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They took off.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That's that.</p><p>Again, thank you so much for your support.</p><p>-Laynee</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feedback is welcome and appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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